


Glowing Eyes

by SoloChaos



Category: Bandom, The Shining - Stephen King, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Ghosts, Hotels, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Psychic Abilities, Supernatural Elements, The Shining AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:46:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3113501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoloChaos/pseuds/SoloChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler Joseph and his husband, Josh Dun, move into The Green Lion Hotel, where Tyler has been hired as the winter caretaker. Cut off from civilization for months, Tyler hopes to battle alcoholism and his temper while writing a volume of poetry. Evil forces residing in The Green Lion – which has a long and violent history – covet Josh for his precognitive powers and exploit Tyler's weaknesses to try to claim them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends! Today (January 4th, 2015) marks the one year anniversary of my first twenty one pilots fic being posted. I've written 135 21p fics (counting this one), my goodness. Thank you to everyone who's left kudos or a comment on any of my fics, and have a nice 2015.
> 
>  
> 
> This fic is based off The Shining, mainly the book, though there will be elements of the movie in it. No knowledge of either is required. A thank you to odetosleep for being my beta. 
> 
> Enjoy.

_Asshole._

 

Wentz moves with the air of a man who likes to think he has more respectability than he actually does. His hair is trimmed short and bleached blonde, which Tyler thinks might have been a rather poor choice on his part. 

 

Tyler feels his pleasant smile becoming increasingly more fixed as Wentz prattles on. He's probably talking more about The Green Lion's history, and Tyler could care less about what color the drapes were in 1957. 

 

He thinks about Josh, and wishes that he had his husband's patience. It would really do him some good. 

 

Tyler suddenly becomes aware that Wentz is staring at him expectantly. "I'm sorry?" he says.

 

Wentz bristles a little, looking irritated at having to repeat his question. "Does your– husband, correct, know exactly what you both will be taking on here? He's not intimidated by it at all?"

 

"Josh is as adaptable as they come," Tyler says with his most winning smile. 

 

Wentz doesn't smile back. 

 

"Look here," he says instead, pulling out a tablet. "These are the floor plans," he says, letting Tyler pad through them with the touch of his finger. 

 

"Top floor," Wentz says as Tyler scrolls up. "It's the attic. Don't go up there. Nothing there but the junk past managers didn't know what to do with. Rattraps aplenty as well. You'll tell your husband not to go up there as well, correct?"

 

"Certainly," Tyler said. _Does he think I'm incapable of caring for my own husband? Asshole._

 

He scrolls down to the third floor. 

 

"The Green Lion has 150 guest quarters, forty of them located on the third floor. There are sixty-five on the second floor, and forty-five on the first. All have breathtaking views, and have amenities such as access to the heated pool located on the second floor."

 

Tyler guesses that Wentz is unconsciously talking up The Green Lion. He would like to tell the man to shut up and get to what Tyler needs to know, but Tyler keeps his mouth closed. He needs this job. 

 

"There are five linen closets on each floor, along with two storerooms: one on the second floor and one on the first," Wentz continues. "Any questions?"

 

Tyler shakes his head, scrolling down to the ground level floor layout. 

 

"Here we have the Dining Room and Lounge, along with the kitchen," Wentz says. "The Ballroom is located," he points, "right there. Questions?"

 

"Yes, about the basement. Since I'm applying to be the winter manager, I ought to know about the–"

 

"Stump will show you that." Wentz looks mildly insulted, as though he's miffed by Tyler having the audacity to believe that Wentz has knowledge of the dirtier work of the boiler and plumbing. 

 

Wentz puts the tablet aside, and Tyler leans back. 

 

"I'll have the layouts sent to you," he says. "Now, I'm going to be blunt with you. Mark Eshleman is a powerful man regarding this hotel. If he had not requested that you be hired, I would not even be considering you."

 

 _Asshole,_ Tyler thinks, somewhat appalled. _Asshole, fucking_ _–_

 

"Your obvious dislike of me is apparent, Mr. Joseph, and–"

 

 _–_ _asshole, fucking asshole._

 

"–that I don't mind. We employ many workers every summer season, and I'm under the impression that many of them dislike me, and that most of them think me a bastard."

 

He looks at Tyler, who smiles in confirmation. 

 

"Their character judgement is entirely correct. You have to be a bastard to run things like hotels efficiently. 

 

"Now," Wentz says clapping his hands together. "The Green Lion was opened in 1949, as I told you. Since then, people such as Marilyn Monroe, Jack Nicholson, Lou Ferrigno, and Madonna have stayed. More recently, people such as Jennifer Lawrence, Justin Bieber, and Taylor Swift have spent time here."

 

"I wouldn't be bragging about Bieber if I were you," Tyler mumbles. Wentz's eyes narrow, but he doesn't say anything. 

 

"This place truly became one of the most sought after hotels in 1957, when Gerard Way, musician, entrepreneur, billionaire, bought the place."

 

"I've heard of him."

 

"Most have," Wentz says with a nod. "Transformed the place, he did. I saw you admiring that basketball court in the back before you came in. He had it built, and it's believed to be one of the finest to exist."

 

"I'd believe that," Tyler says, being entirely truthful. He saw the immaculate maze topiary in the front, and he was alarmed by the utter perfection of the thing. 

 

"Finally, Way sold the hotel to Eshleman and management, and they turned it over to me. Since then, business has been running as smoothly as ever."

 

Tyler thinks that Wentz's blatant pride isn't unfounded, but he's starting to become very irritated. 

 

"Mr. Wentz, I fail to see how The Green Lion's history is related to my ability to do this job," Tyler says. 

 

"Winters are the cruelest things imaginable to this hotel," Wentz begins, and Tyler braces himself for another tangent. "That's why I decided to hire a winter manager. Someone to heat the hotel, to find and repair any damage, and the like. However, the first time I hired someone to be the winter manager, he brought along his entire family. And it was a tragedy."

 

Wentz looks at Tyler expectantly, and Tyler wonders what he should be doing. Thankfully, Wentz moves on. 

 

"The man was an alcoholic," Wentz says, looking at Tyler meaningfully. 

 

Tyler feels his lips curl up into some attempt at a smile. "Is that all? Didn't Mark tell you? I've been sober for years."

 

"Yes, Mr. Eshleman did mention that. He also mentioned why you were fired from your last job. You lost your temper, correct? You lost your temper. But anyways, the last man brought his wife and his two young children, which is part of the reason why I bring this up. I was on the fence regarding hiring him, considering their entire family would be cut off from everything."

 

"No, wait," Tyler interjects. "There's Wi-Fi here. There's the road back to the highway, right? And even if that was inaccessible, we're in the range for police helicopters."

 

"The snow is unimaginably thick, Mr. Joseph. Only the snowmobile in the shed can make it through during most of the winter. The Wi-Fi is turned off during the winter to save money. And the telephone wires go down due to snow for at least three weeks in the winter. There is two-way radio between here and the police station at the closest town. I'm not too sure on the helicopter front."

 

"But this place, it's not truly cut off, is it?"

 

"Mr. Joseph, if your husband was to trip and crack his head open, would you feel cut off?"

 

Tyler pauses to think. The snowmobile couldn't go fast enough for Josh to get to the hospital quickly, and he doubts helicopters would be that much better, especially with the snow factoring in. 

 

"Oh," is all he says. 

 

"Exactly. In the end, however, I decided to hire him. I thought that having his family with him would be better, anyways. If he were to fall ill or injured, there would be someone to take care of him." Wentz rubs his hands over his face. "What happened, though, was what I suspect came from beer and cabin fever."

 

Cabin fever. Tyler's heard stories of murder being committed over things such as bad meals and dirty dishes. 

 

"Did he hurt his family?" Tyler asks, suddenly overwhelmingly curious. 

 

"Killed them," Wentz says. "Murdered his children with a hatchet before shooting his wife and then himself. Fell down the stairs, drunk out of his skull, before popping a cap in his mouth."

 

"Was he educated?"

 

"He was not even a high school graduate, as a matter of fact. I thought a less intelligent individual would be less likely to fall victim to cabin fever."

 

"No, you see, you'd be incorrect," Tyler says. "Someone less intelligent has less to do. They can play games on their phone and watch TV. But how long can you play Flappy Bird or whatever before you grow bored? What do you do when every channel is playing repeats?"

 

"And a more intelligent individual?"

 

"I have poetry to write, as I'm sure Mark told you. That should keep me occupied plenty. Josh reads, and he'll probably bring along his electric drum kit. We've been married for nearly six years, and we haven't grown sick of each other yet."

 

Wentz sighs. "Well, with the two of you there, the risks are doubled. Eshleman said that he'd take responsibility, and I assume the same for you?"

 

"Of course," Tyler says. 

 

"All right. I have little say in the matter, so you're hired," Wentz says. "I'm going to send you off to Mr. Stump now to show you around. Any questions?"

 

Tyler shakes his head. 

 

"Good. And Mr. Joseph, my reluctance to hire you is in no way personal. I only want what's best for this hotel."

 

"Understandable," Tyler says, standing up. "No harm done."

 

They don't shake hands before Tyler exits.

 

 

 

 

Josh fidgets on the exam table as the doctor peers into his eyes with a flashlight. 

 

"Well, you don't appear to have a concussion," the doctor says, turning off the flashlight and pulling back.

 

Josh could've told the guy that. Josh knows what concussions feel like. He's had plenty. 

 

"I have fainting spells, that's all," Josh says. "Normally they're not as dramatic as me nearly falling off a balcony." 

 

The doctor cracks a somewhat wry smile. "Have you been treated for the fainting spells at all? Seen a doctor about them, at least?"

 

Josh shakes his head. "They're not that frequent. I didn't think that they're worth the hospital bill."

 

"If you _had_ seen a doctor, you wouldn't be here in a hospital," the doctor says somewhat offhandedly.

 

Josh doesn't reply. His mind is on Tyler right now, and David Boyd. 

 

 _Sometimes he does things_ _–_

 

Tyler's hands around Josh's wrist. 

 

 _–_ _that he later regrets._

 

"Mr. Dun? Mr. Dun?"

 

"Oh, sorry," Josh says quickly, snapping back to reality. 

 

"Mr. Dun, is there a history of fainting spells in your family?" the doctor asks. 

 

Josh frowns, shaking his head. "Not that I know of."

 

"Epilepsy?"

 

Josh shakes his head again. 

 

"Tell me, Mr. Dun: do you see anything while you're out?" the doctor says. "Visions of any sort?"

 

What should he say?

 

_It could be cute if you were a child, Joshua, but they'll lock you up if you keep talking about it. They'll lock you up, I swear._

 

"No," Josh says, tugging at the hem of his hospital gown. "No, no visions."

 

"Are you married?" 

 

Josh nods. 

 

"Does your spouse know anything about your spells?"

 

"Yes. I haven't told him how frequent they are, though."

 

Josh is quiet for a moment. 

 

"Don't tell him," he says suddenly. "Please."

 

The doctor eyes him, confused. "Sorry?"

 

"My– my husband. Don't tell him about my... episode," Josh mumbles. 

 

"I don't think I'm going to be talking to your husband at all, Mr. Dun," the doctor says, looking bewildered.

 

"I know, I just..." Josh sighs. "I mean, I don't want to worry him."

 

"All right," the doctor says slowly, looking slightly concerned. He looks at the computer, where he's been taking notes. "Tell me, do you work, Mr. Dun?"

 

"I worked at a music store for a while," Josh answers. 

 

"For a while?"

 

Josh sighs. "Well, I broke my arm. And when it finally healed, I... Well, I didn't really feel too strongly about going back."

 

"And how did you break your arm?"

 

"My, um," Josh runs his fingers through his hair, "my husband lost his temper for a moment."

 

The doctor looks at him worriedly.

 

"Oh, but it was my fault," Josh says earnestly. "I was messing with his work, and I _know_ he doesn't like his work to be touched."

 

"Mr. Dun–"

 

"He was drunk, and he really didn't mean to pull that hard," Josh continues. "And he stopped drinking after that. He quit, cold turkey."

 

"And has he touched you since?"

 

Josh blinks at him. "Are you saying... no, no, I'm not being abused, if that's what you're thinking."

 

The doctor leans forward, clasping his hands together. "Mr. Dun, please tell me: has your husband hurt you since the time he broke your arm?"

 

"No," Josh says firmly. "No, he hasn't."

 

The doctor turns around and clicks around on his computer. "It says on your hospital records that you've been treated for multiple concussions."

 

"I'm clumsy."

 

"Mr. Dun."

 

"I fell down the stairs once, I fell off my skateboard, and one time I walked straight into a wall. Seriously. I'm clumsy." He shows the doctor his leg. "Look at all these bruises. I just walk into things."

 

Josh is beginning to realize exactly how "battered wife" he's sounding. 

 

The doctor sighs. "I'm going to recommend that you see your physician about your fainting spells. And..." He opens up one of the drawers in his desk and rummages around before pulling out a couple of brochures. "Take these. Your clothes are right there, and Mr. Dun?"

 

Josh looks at him. 

 

"I'd recommend reevaluating your relationship with your husband."

 

Josh opens his mouth to protest, but he decides it won't do him any good. 

 

"I'll leave you to get dressed," the doctor says. "Take care, Mr. Dun."

 

Josh dresses slowly, wincing a little as he slips his left arm through the sleeve. It still aches sometimes, and the lady wrenching it when she pulled him back from the balcony didn't help. 

 

After he's dressed, he finally looks down at the brochures the doctor gave him. 

 

_"It Shouldn't Hurt to Go Home"_

 

_"What to Do When Your Home Isn_ _’_ _t Safe"_

 

_"Know Your Rights: Domestic Violence"_

 

_"Relationships Shouldn't Hurt"_

 

_"Breaking the Cycle of Domestic Violence"_

 

Josh sighs, tossing the brochures into the trash. 

 

 

 

 

 

_You lost your temper._

 

Stump is showing Tyler around the basement, gesturing to different buttons that are probably very vital to Tyler's job, but he's only half listening. 

 

_You lost your temper._

 

_Oh my god, Josh, I'm so sorry._

 

"Keys are here," Stump says, waving them in front of Tyler's face before putting them back on their hook. "Boiler's over there. Let me show you."

 

_You lost your temper._

 

"All right, you use the keys here. Dials are here. If it reaches above a certain level, a buzzer will go off in your room."

 

 _You lost_ _–_

 

 _Tyler coming home, completely smashed. Josh wide-eyed, frantically trying to soak up the coffee he had spilled all over Tyler's notebooks. Tyler's vision going blood red with rage. Josh's babbling filling the air but Tyler couldn't care less (oh, shut up shut up you have no idea how sorry you're about to be save your apologies for then). Tyler's hands wrapping their way around Josh's wrist, forcing him away from the soiled papers. Tyler's hands pulling Josh back, mouth screaming enraged obscenities. Tyler's hands wrenching his arm in just the perfect angle for there to be a sickening_ snap. _Josh's face going a sickly pale, and Tyler being sure that he'd see Josh fainting into the mess of coffee-soaked papers. Josh looking down at his arm, his crooked, grotesquely angled arm, and letting out a small whimper. Tyler snapping back to himself, apologizing like he never had before. Josh flinching back at Tyler's attempts to comfort him physically, cradling his mangled arm against his chest. Josh looking up at Tyler with utter hate in his eyes, hate that sickened Tyler to his bones. Tyler crying, Josh crying. Josh running off to call god knows who, the hospital, the police, his mother, the fucking White House, leaving Tyler standing there, a single thought running through his boozed-addled mind._

 

 _–_ _your temper._

 

"Now, if you look here..."

 

Tyler follows Stump as he's shown around, listening listlessly. He's not really paying attention (he can look up this stuff online), but he does manage to catch Stump saying, "...could blow you sky-high if you don't relieve the pressure every so often, and I bet you could hear that douchebag Wentz screaming at the reparation fee all the way from the fucking moon. Wouldn't you agree?"

 

"That seems to be an extremely likely reaction of his, yes."

 

Stump looks at him and nods. "You really do sound educated. Writer, didn't you say? I respect writers, I do. Respect them until they're writing 'bout dumb shit like 'feministism' or whatever it is. Either way, that mess is just ugly dykes trying to claim they've been victimized. What's this world coming to, huh?"

 

He goes on to ramble about how feminists are all lesbians who want to rule men, interjecting comments about plumbing and heating and such between sentences. Tyler tunes him out again. He can go online if he wants to hear about plumbing and heating and the evils of feminism. 

 

"...probably why that first guy went nuts."

 

Tyler looks up at that. "Sorry?"

 

"Mm? Oh, I was saying that it was probably because of the quiet that the first guy went crazy."

 

"Wentz said that the first winter manager killed his family and then himself. Is that what you're talking about?"

 

"Yup. Weekes was his name, and a sketchy character right off the bat. Dumbass Wentz would've hired anyone though as long as they'd accept minimum wage. Really too bad about the family, though. Beautiful wife, adorable kids. Girl and boy, about six and four. Real messy, it was. Wentz was fucking pissed. Gotta give the man credit, though. He managed to keep the whole thing locked shut. I was sure some reporter would manage to get his hands on it and use it as an excuse to remind the public of the past scandals."

 

"Scandals?" Tyler asks, intrigued. 

 

"Oh, sure. Any good hotel's got some real juicy ones. I remember this girl, must've been twenty, twenty-one, comes in with this older man. _Old_ older man, maybe eighty. No secret what they were doing every night. One day, the man just up and left. Girl was distraught. Some of us asked her if she needed anything, since she was starting to waste away. One day one of the maids walked into her bathroom to clean and saw her naked as the day she was born and dead as roadkill."

 

"What happened to her?"

 

"Suicide. Poor girl slit her wrists in the bathtub. _Then_ we find out that the man she came in with was some big-shot businessman, and someone got a picture of him with the girl. Wife was pissed as hell, I heard. Don't blame her, really. 

 

"It isn't uncommon for people to die here, actually. Mostly old men getting a heart attack or stroke or whatever doing some girl they paid. Fucking gross to clean up, I'm sure. Thank god that's not my job.

 

"Anyways, come on up. I'll show you the equipment shed."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Josh is sprawled out on his bed, humming happily to himself.

 

Tyler got the job. 

 

Tyler hasn't told him yet, but Josh knows things. He knows lots of things. He knows that Tyler knows he knows things, and he knows that Tyler doesn't much like that he knows things.

 

Josh knows that Tyler thought long and hard about a divorce a long time ago, back to when Tyler's hands came around Josh's wrist and snapped the bone clean. He didn't think as much about as Josh did, though. Josh nearly asked for their divorce himself, but in the end, he couldn't. 

 

He knows that Tyler is struggling. Tyler's hasn't touched a drop of alcohol since the time Josh spilled coffee all over his notebook, but he can feel Tyler's desire for a drink like it's tangible. He knows that sometimes, lots of times, all Tyler wants to do is sit down and drink until he passes out. Until it all goes away. 

 

He knows that Tyler has considered suicide. The word is ugly in his mind, scrawled in thick, red letters. He had tried to delve into Tyler's mind, tried to figure out exactly where those thoughts came from, but all he remembers is waking up covered in his dinner and Tyler shaking him, looking scared. 

 

Tyler made him go to the doctor after Josh babbled on about Will and how he wasn't there that time, but Josh kept quiet on the Will front when the doctor asked if he had any hallucinations. Tyler looked at him disapprovingly, but he didn't say anything. 

 

Will is... well, he's Will. Josh can't say exactly what he looks like, but he can sense him sometimes in dreams. Every now and then, Will'll come to him while he's awake, taking him away. When he comes back to himself, he always finds that he's passed out.

 

Josh sighs, getting up out of bed and ambling downstairs. He's in a pretty good mood. He's getting himself a glass of water as he idly pulls through Tyler's mind. 

 

 _–_ _a character stump was maybe i should write a story sometime put him in it ha that would be interesting wait frick i forgot to ask about the thermostat up on the_ _–_

 

Thermostats. Tyler got the job and he's driving home and he's thinking about thermostats. 

 

Josh is raising the glass of water to his lips when he hears someone call his name. 

 

_Josh!_

 

"Will?" Josh says, turning around. 

 

 _Look,_ Will says, and Josh looks. 

 

There's snow everywhere. Josh is shivering. Everything is white, and Josh is cold. 

 

 _It's too deep,_ Will says, and Josh doesn't understand what he means, but he nods anyways.

 

Heart racing with trepidation, Josh hesitantly walks around. The snow and the wind biting at his skin, he stumbles over to the large building that is increasingly becoming more snow-covered.

 

_Good._

 

The scene changes, and Josh is suddenly in an unfamiliar bathroom. Confused, Josh looks around. 

 

There's someone in the tub.

 

A hand is peeking out over the rim, and that's all Josh can see. It's pale, limp, and there's blood dripping from it down onto the floor. He scrambles back, his eyes catching on the mirror. His ears began to ring. 

 

_REDRUM._

 

"Will," he whispers, voice cracking, "Will, I want to wake up now."

 

_REDRUM. REDRUM. REDRUM._

 

"I want to wake up now, Will, I want to wake up," Josh says, voice sounding stronger this time.

 

_REDRUMREDRUMREDRUMREDRUM._

 

"WILL!" Josh shrieks, giving up on sounding strong and clapping his hands over his ears like a child. "I WANT TO WAKE UP NOW, WILL!"

 

He can feel everything around him start to whirl, and he hesitantly opens his eyes when it stops. 

 

Everything is dark. Josh could swear that he feels a hummingbird inside his chest. 

 

_Crash!_

 

Josh jumps, whirling around. There's a stream of light peeking through a hole. 

 

_Crash!_

 

The hole becomes larger. 

 

"Come on out, you little shit," someone is huffing. Josh's skin prickles at the familiarity of it. "Come on out."

 

Josh skitters backwards, falling over something. _His record player?_

 

 **"Come on out!"** someone roars. **"Come on out! Come on out and take your medicine!"**

 

_CRASH!_

 

Josh is shaking, huddled against the wall that he managed to fumble for. He's never felt so terrified (not even when Tyler was clutching Josh's limp arm and all Josh could see was _mean),_ and that word is still echoing around in his mind. _REDRUM. REDRUM. REDRUM._

 

 **"Take** **–** **take it! Take it like a man!"**

 

And suddenly Josh's eyes are flying open, and he's gasping out loud. 

 

Real. This is real. He's awake. 

 

 _Be careful, J,_ he can hear Will say faintly. 

 

Josh sits up, groaning as he rubs his head. He must've hit it as he collapsed. 

 

_Frick, he'd better not have another concussion._

 

He blinks, looking around. His pants are wet, and for a second he panics, thinking he wet himself again before realizing that he spilled his water all over himself. Thankfully, the glass didn't break, and he goes upstairs to quickly change his pants. 

 

Josh is walking back downstairs again when he sees Tyler walking inside. He's attempting to lock the door behind himself while carrying two bags of groceries.

 

"Oh, hey, let me help you," Josh says, taking the bags from Tyler. 

 

"Thanks, J," Tyler says, locking the door before turning around to kiss Josh's forehead. He pulls back with a frown. "Are you okay? You're all sweaty."

 

Josh touches his own forehead. "Oh, I went for a walk a bit ago. Guess I worked up a sweat." He gives Tyler a grin, setting the groceries down before wrapping his husband into a tight hug. "I love you," he whispers, hugging Tyler as tightly as possible.

 

"I love you too," Tyler says, sounding bemused. He hugs back just as tightly, though. 

 

Josh carefully combs over the shell of Tyler's thoughts, and he's pleased to see that Tyler is genuinely pleased to see him. He's happy. Josh is happy. They're happy, and that's all Josh wants. And the things Will shows him don't always happen. 

 

_REDRUM._

 

 

 

 

Tyler sighs as he fiddles with his phone. 

 

_God, I need a drink._

 

He knows Josh thinks that he quit when he broke Josh's arm, (and he really should've,) but Tyler didn't stop until several weeks later. 

 

It was when he and Mark were driving back from their nightly trip to one of the bars in town. 

 

He and Mark became friends simply because of similarities. They both taught at the same school. They both were the drunkest ones at school and faculty functions. They both had sliding marriages: Mark and his wife were waiting for their divorce papers to pend, and although Tyler loved Josh with everything, he could see Josh's sad and disappointed face every time he'd come home sloshed.

 

He honestly had no idea that he was becoming an alcoholic, despite all the signs. He had vague suspicions as he noticed everyone's wary glances anytime alcohol was served. Hey, no, I'm fine. I can stop whenever I want to. He taught classes half drunk, or he skipped them altogether. Yes, I'm sure I'm okay to drive. He'd published several novels and volumes of poetry, but then every word he wrote was always deleted off his computer nearly as quickly as he put them there. 

 

But he wasn't an alcoholic, or at least that's what he told himself. 

 

And then...

 

And then he broke his husband's arm. 

 

He really thought that moment would be the one when Josh finally gained the courage to leave him. In fact, Tyler thinks he would've if he was on speaking terms with his mother. 

 

But Josh didn't leave. 

 

He finally calmed down long enough to allow Tyler to drive him to the hospital (the next morning so Tyler would be sober enough), and he didn't say anything when Tyler told the doctor that he fell down the stairs. He suspects that the doctor didn't believe them (it should've been obvious, seeing that Josh flinched every time Tyler moved), but the doctor didn't say anything. 

 

But that wasn't when Tyler stopped drinking (although it should've been). No, he had that realization when he was with Mark. 

 

He and Mark were driving home from a bar years ago, maybe three, when Mark hit something. He braked immediately, and the two men looked at each other in horror. 

 

"That– that was a kid's bike, Mark," Tyler said, eyes wide. 

 

"I know," Mark replied, looking about as horrified as Tyler felt. He jumped out of the car, leaving Tyler sitting there, sobering up fast. 

 

"Did you find the kid?" Tyler asked anxiously as Mark clambered back in. 

 

Mark shook his head. "No. I think it was just the bike." He sighed, burying his face in his palms. "We could've killed someone, oh god."

 

Tyler's mind was racing too quickly to be miffed by the "we."

 

"Mark," he said slowly, "we have to stop drinking."

 

They had to. They could've run over someone as easily as Mark ran over that bicycle. It didn't matter that Mark was driving; it could've just as easily have been Tyler. 

 

Mark nodded grimly. "We have to stop drinking," he agreed. 

 

Tyler got home late, long past when Josh had gone to bed. 

 

Josh rolled over (carefully, his arm was still in a cast) as Tyler crawled in next to him. He sleepily murmured, "Are you okay? I dreamed you had an accident. Ran over something, I think."

 

Tyler paused, somewhat shaken, but dismissed it as a coincidence. "No, J. I'm fine. Go to sleep."

 

Josh snuggled up against him, breaths evening out as Tyler's mind flashed back to that bicycle. 

 

 _I need to get clean,_ he thought to himself. 

 

And he was, for a couple months, until David Boyd. 

 

Tyler was a literature teacher at a private high school. He didn't want to direct choir, but the board couldn't find a proper director, and they knew that Tyler knew music. So he was it. 

 

And then there was David Boyd. 

 

Tyler felt nothing particularly towards this boy. He was a good-looking boy, somewhat athletic with mediocre grades. He was simply... okay. 

 

He signed up for choir, Tyler suspected, because he needed his arts credit and wasn't any more interested in the other art classes than choir. Despite that, David wasn't too bad at singing.

 

Or at least he wouldn't be if he didn't stutter. 

 

"Oh-oh-oh s-say c-c-can you s-s-see..."

 

Despite that, David was kept on the choir for a while, only because the voices of other students were simply too awful to be better than a stuttering voice. But the time finally came for Tyler to have to cut him from the choir. 

 

"I'm sorry," Tyler said quietly as David stared at him, looking betrayed. "The problem, David, is that you stutter."

 

David looked astonished. "I-I-I d-don't s-s-stutter!"

 

"I'm afraid you do. But you don't stutter in class, I've noticed. Do you have any idea what causes–"

 

"I-I d-d-don't s-stutter!" David protested. "Y-you j-j-just d-don't l-like m-m-me!"

 

"David, whether I like you or not has nothing to do with this," Tyler said, feeling his patience begin to strain. "You have the potential to be a wonderful singer. If you can get a handle on this stutter of yours, I'd be happy to have you–"

 

"N-n-no! I-I d-don't s-s-stutter! It-it-it's all y-you!" David cried. 

 

Tyler felt his control over his temper drop down another notch. 

 

"David, you're never going to be a good singer if you don't learn to control your stutter. How would it sound if you had a solo and sang, 'M-my c-c-country t-t-tis of th-th-thee, sw-sweet l-l-land of l-liberty'?"

 

He regretted those words the moment they left his mouth. 

 

David looked betrayed. "Y-y-you j-just h-hate m-m-me b-b-because y-you kn-kn-know–"

 

He burst into tears and ran from the room as fast as he could, leaving Tyler to wonder what it was he knew. 

 

He felt ashamed, ashamed for mocking poor David's stutter, ashamed in the way he felt after breaking Josh's arm. He felt even more ashamed when the thought of, _How does it feel to finally have something go wrong in your life? How does it feel to be a part of the real world?_ crossed his mind. 

 

Tyler thought, _No. Don't be an asshole._

 

But Tyler couldn't help but feel some pride. He'd kept his temper, something that he wouldn't have been able to do one month ago. 

 

He kept it until exactly one week later when he walked out to his car to see David Boyd on his knees, digging a hunting knife into a front tire, the back two already slashed. 

 

Then all Tyler saw was red. 

 

**_Take your medicine, Davey-boy! Take it like a man!_ **

 

The next thing he knew was Mr. Hansen, the German teacher, pulling David back while crying, "You're going to kill him!"

 

And Tyler stopped, astonished to see that David Boyd looked nearly dead. 

 

"I..." he said, looking around. He noticed that most of the members of choir had gathered around. "I... We'll meet tomorrow. Mr. Hansen, could you get the school nurse?"

 

By the end of the week, nearly half of the people in the choir had dropped out. But that didn't matter, because Tyler was soon told that he too would be dropping out. 

 

He had one beer that night. One. (And he ignored Josh's betrayed expression when he tasted the booze on Tyler's breath.) He's been clean ever since. 

 

Tyler still wonders what David thought he knew. Because Tyler knew nothing. 

 

Tyler knows nothing at all. 

 

 

 

 

 

Josh smiles slightly as he watches his man sleep.

 

The smell of sex is still in the air, and Josh breathes the familiarity of it in. He can feel Tyler's semen leaking out between his thighs, and he closes his eyes with a sigh because "his man" rouses about a hundred different feelings, each and every one increasingly more bewildering. 

 

They met in college, not too long after Josh's mother called him to tell him that if he needed anything he should call his father, since it was his fault that his father left her. Tyler was sweet, gentle, understanding, and everything that Josh's mother never was. He was exactly who Josh needed. 

 

They moved in together three months after they had met, and they had sex for the first time then, on that old bed that creaked with their every movement. Tyler had helped him finally cut the cord with his mother several months after that. 

 

_She told you not to talk to her, so why does she still answer your calls? And more importantly, why do you still call her? All she's done is hurt you, J, and that's not healthy._

 

And then one year later, after kisses and fights and making ups and having sex– no, making love, Tyler got down on one knee before Josh. 

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

 

"Tyler..."

 

"Come on, J. Make an honest man out of me."

 

His father, sisters, and brother attended the wedding. His mother did not. 

 

And Josh was okay with that. He had Tyler.

 

A couple months after Josh and Tyler had married, his mother called, and they forged a tentative bond. His mother wasn't homophobic, exactly, but she made comments about how Josh wasn't a "real boy" anymore, and how Tyler wouldn't be any good for him. That marriages like theirs never ended well. 

 

Josh didn't visit her much. He had Tyler. 

 

And then his father died. His siblings went off to college, or moved away. He was alone, except for his mother. 

 

And Tyler. He had Tyler. 

 

Tyler had graduated at the top of his class and had gone on to write a couple novels that were published. He wrote poetry, too, and his poems became much more sought after after his novels became bestsellers. He became a teacher at one of the finest private schools in the country. They weren't just getting by, they had money to spare. And Josh was happy. 

 

This was his man. He had Tyler. 

 

He had Tyler for a while, at least, until he somehow lost his grip and the drink took custody. Tyler would drink and drink until he passed out in front of the TV, and Josh would cover him in a blanket and most definitely didn't think of his mother as he tried to sleep.

 

Tyler came home one night, so drunk that Josh still thinks that it's absolutely incredible that he didn't die driving home. He was handing Tyler a cup of coffee, hoping that it would sober him up a bit, when Tyler accidentally bumped into him and Josh spilled coffee all over his own arm. 

 

He let out a screech before running to run cool water over his arm, which was rapidly turning red. Despite the severe amount of pain he was in, the only thing he could think was, _I can't let my mother hear of this._

 

"Sorry," Tyler muttered, looking petulant, like a little boy. And for one brief moment, Josh hated him. 

 

"Go to bed, Ty," Josh said with a sigh, wondering where their first aid kit was. 

 

"You can't tell me what to do."

 

"I can, and I will."

 

"You sound like your mother."

 

Josh's whole stomach hovered in his throat for three long seconds before returning to its rightful place. 

 

"Go to bed," he ordered, his fear sounding like anger. "You're drunk. Go to bed."

 

"You can't tell me what to do," Tyler muttered as he turned around and walked to their bedroom. 

 

Josh dressed his burn before going to sleep on the couch. 

 

Things weren't okay for a long time, and the bad times reached their peak when Tyler broke Josh's arm.

 

That was when Josh seriously considered divorce. 

 

His mother would take him in, he knew that. But he would have to suffer through not so subtle "I told you so's" for however long he stayed with her. And his pride was too much to allow it. 

 

He didn't have Tyler, Tyler had him. 

 

But then Tyler stopped drinking. Tyler stopped drinking, and things were okay. Things weren't great, but they weren't bad. He could live with that. He was starting to get Tyler back. 

 

And there was another factor to everything. 

 

His father had told him that Josh was born with the caul still over his face. He had apparently panicked, thinking his son had no face, but of course Josh did. Neither had believed in the second sight. Or at least Josh hadn't for a very long time, until he had to. 

 

 _Are you okay? I dreamed you had an accident_.

 

He knew when Tyler was having one of his bad days. He would make his favorite meal for dinner and stay out of his way. He knows that his... sight is much more powerful than what he uses it for, but he had always kept it subdued after he confided in his mother about it. 

 

_It's not psychic, it's madness. They'll lock you up if you don't keep quiet._

 

He and Tyler are getting better. Josh has his fingers crossed that their winter at The Green Lion would be the end of okay times and the beginning of great ones. 

 

He closes eyes, wrapping his arms around his man's shoulders and burying his face into his husband's bare skin. 

 

 

 

 

He wakes up with a jump, startled by a loud _crash._

 

 **"Come on out!"** someone is wheezing. **"Come on out and take your medicine!"**

 

He skitters backwards, his whole body shaking. 

 

"Will?" he whimpers. "Are you there?"

 

Suddenly, everything is quiet, and Josh is opening his eyes to see Tyler gently cradling him, lamplight dimly illuminating his worried face. 

 

"You all right, J?" Tyler murmurs. 

 

"Y-yeah," he says. "Just a bad dream."

 

Tyler nods. "Wanna talk about it?"

 

Josh shakes his head. "No, I'm okay. You can turn the light out."

 

Tyler nods, reaching over to switch the lamp off. He pulls Josh closer, their naked bodies intertwining perfectly. Josh sighs, closing his eyes. 

 

He had seen the hotel. That was the hotel. And whatever REDRUM is, it's there. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wentz is waiting for them in the lobby of the hotel. He shakes Tyler's hand and nods in Josh's direction. 

 

"My husband, Josh," Tyler says, gesturing towards Josh. 

 

"Hello," Josh says, holding out a hand for Wentz to shake, pushing friendliness towards him. 

 

"How are you?" Wentz asks, shaking Josh's hand with a genuine smile. Josh sees Tyler's mystified expression out of the corner of his mind, and he smiles to himself. 

 

"I'm quite well, thank you," he says, releasing Wentz's hand. 

 

"It's closing day, and it's always hectic," Wentz says, turning back to Tyler. "Let me show you two– oh, you'll have to excuse me." He walks over to where a woman is arguing with a clerk. 

 

"I've been coming here for twenty years! I have always paid with my American Express card."

 

The clerk spreads his hands, smiling awkwardly while saying something that Josh can't quite hear. 

 

"I refuse to pay with anything but my American Express card. I repeat: I refuse to pay with anything but my American Express card. I repeat: I refuse to pay–"

 

Josh and Tyler both watch as Wentz gently taps the woman's shoulder and leads her away. His demeanor appears friendly, understanding, but Josh can feel his frustration and disgust radiating from him like heat. 

 

"Now, that's a man who makes his money," Tyler says. Josh nods in agreement. 

 

"Can we go over to the window?" Josh asks. "I'd like to get a look around."

 

Tyler nods, and they walk over to the window. 

 

"Oh, it's gorgeous," Josh comments, looking around the yard. 

 

"Isn't it?" Tyler says with a nod. "Look at that maze."

 

"It's definitely something," Josh says. 

 

They admire the view for a bit longer before Tyler tells him that he's going to go sit down. Josh nods, still looking out the window. He can't help a couple anxious thoughts running through his mind. _What if Tyler falls and cracks his head? What if I have one of my fainting spells and swallow my tongue? What if_ _–_

 

 _–_ _what if we have a lovely time now shut up Joshua._

 

He shakes his head, fighting down whatever anxiety he has about this. They'll be fine. 

 

He goes to sit down by Tyler, pausing to wrinkle his nose at the American Express lady's thought of _I'd sure like to get into his pants_ regarding the bellboy. 

 

Tyler smiles at him and kisses his cheek when he sits down. Josh smiles back. He's happy that Tyler is happy, but he can't shake the feeling that something is going to go horribly wrong. 

 

A woman around Josh's age, maybe younger, comes to greet them. She has platinum blonde hair with dark roots, and she's smiling at them pleasantly. 

 

"I'm Miss Ryan," she tells them. "I'm the cook, and I'll be showing you around the kitchen while Mr. Wentz deals with... well, while he deals. That all right with you guys?"

 

"Certainly," Tyler says, standing up. "I'm Tyler, and this is my husband Josh."

 

"Nice to meet you two," Miss Ryan says. She doesn't offer a hand for a shake, but she smiles warmly at both of them. "Come this way, please."

 

The Green Lion's kitchen is the largest Josh has ever seen. It's rather intimidating, in all honesty. Josh doesn't even know the names of half of what he's seeing. 

 

"I'm going to get lost three times a day," he comments, looking around. 

 

Miss Ryan laughs. "Don't worry, it gets pretty easy to navigate. And besides, you really only have to go to this part of the kitchen." She shows them to where three relatively small (only relatively) ovens are. "Who here cooks?"

 

Josh raises his hand. 

 

"Excellent. So here we have the walk-in freezer, with probably enough food to feed a small village for a year," Miss Ryan says, opening the freezer and walking them inside. "Here we have the meat. Hamburger, chicken, bacon, pork chops, fish, lamb, venison. Do you like venison, J?"

 

"It's not bad," Josh says. He's never had venison before. 

 

Miss Ryan's smile is suspiciously close to a smirk. "I knew it."

 

"How'd you know he's nicknamed J?" Tyler asks, looking curious. 

 

"Hm? Well, I must've heard you call him that," Miss Ryan says, although they all knew she hadn't. No one says anything, though. 

 

She goes on to show them the dairy products, and while she's talking about butter Josh hears her distinctly say, _You've never had venison before, have you._

 

Josh stumbles back slightly, and Miss Ryan catches his eye and winks. Tyler doesn't notice; he's too busy looking at the different kinds of cheese. 

 

"Here are the fruits and veggies," Miss Ryan says. "Some of the finest tomatoes in the world are here. They'll still be delicious as ever even in the coldest of the winter. When you take a bite, you'll be thanking... hey, J, what's my name again? It seems to have slipped away from me."

 

"Miss Ryan, but Debby to your friends," Josh says, humoring her. 

 

"Then from now on, you'll call me Debby," she says. 

 

They walk off to go look at more of the food, leaving Tyler wondering if he'd ever heard Miss Ryan say what her first name is. 

 

"Well there's more, but I've covered the essentials," Debby is saying when Tyler finally catches up to him. "You can do anything you'd like to this place, as long as I come back to it clean."

 

"Noted," Josh says with a smile. 

 

"Good. So, I have to be on a flight to LA shortly. Tyler, I believe Mr. Wentz wanted to talk to you. Josh, could you help me with my bags, please?"

 

"Sure," Josh says, looking over to Tyler. "That all right?"

 

"'Course," Tyler says. "Text me if you need me, okay?"

 

"Okay," Josh says, walking off with Debby. 

 

"There we are," Debby says as they heft the last of her bags into her car. "Say, do you think I could talk to you for a moment?"

 

"Sure," Josh says, somewhat bemused. They go to sit in the front of her car. 

 

"You've got Glowing Eyes," Debby says as soon as Josh slams the door shut. 

 

"Sorry?" Josh says, frowning. 

 

"That's what my grandfather would call it," she explains. "You know. What we can do."

 

"What we can do?"

 

"You know," she says. _This thing._ Josh jumps slightly when her voice enters his mind. 

 

"Oh," he says. "That thing." 

 

Debby smiles at him. "Did you think you were the only one?"

 

Josh nods shyly. 

 

"Well, you aren't," she reassures him. "Plenty of people have got Glowing Eyes. Most of them can't actually communicate like we can, though." She cocks her head. "How strong are you?"

 

Josh blinks. "Sorry?"

 

"Come on, hit me," Debby says. "Yell at me as loud as you can."

 

Josh bites his lip. "Are you sure?"

 

She nods. 

 

"Okay." Josh takes a deep breath. He steadies himself, prepared to send the strongest thought he's ever sent, but at the last moment, he panics. 

 

_!!!!HELLO DEBBY!!!!_

 

Debby jerks back, hitting her head against the car window. Her upper teeth sink into her lower lip, and some blood spills down her chin. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly. 

 

"Debby?" Josh says worriedly. "Debby? Are you okay?"

 

Debby slowly opens her eyes. "My god, J, you hit hard," she says with a weak chuckle. 

 

"That wasn't even my hardest," Josh admits. "I held back at the last minute."

 

Debby snorts, gently touching her head. "Good thing you did," she says, and at Josh's alarmed look, she quickly says, "No, don't worry. It's no worse than a hangover."

 

Josh knows that she's lying; it's worse than that. (He should know. He's had plenty of experience with other people's hangovers.) But he lets it go. 

 

"Can you read everyone's mind, Josh?" Debby asks. 

 

"For the most part, yes," Josh says with a nod. "It's easiest to read Tyler's. But I don't really like to."

 

"Why?"

 

Josh shrugs. "It feels dirty. Like I'm watching him masturbate or something. Well, I have, but I mean–" He cuts himself off, blushing. 

 

"I get what you're saying," Debby says with a laugh. "Can you do anything else besides read minds?"

 

"I can sense emotions," Josh says. "Always." He looks at her carefully. "Why? Can you do anything else?"

 

"Sometimes I have dreams," Debby tells him. "What about you?"

 

"Sometimes," Josh says. "Sometimes it happens when I'm awake, and I wake up on the ground. That's when Will's there, though."

 

"Will?"

 

Josh suddenly feels worry was over him in a wave, and he stiffens.

 

"You're worried about us," he breathes. "Why?"

 

"Josh–"

 

"You're worried for me," he says. "Are you worried about what Will's been showing me, too?"

 

"Who's Will?"

 

"My parents called him my imaginary friend when I was younger," Josh says carefully. "When I got older, my mom called him my dirty little secret." He shakes his head. "She always told me not to talk about him because I'll be locked up if I do. Because he's not real. But I think he is." He takes a deep breath. "He comes to me sometimes. Usually during the day. And he tries to show me things, but I usually don't understand. And then I wake up, and it's like I've fainted. And lately all of the things he's shown me is about this place."

 

"The Green Lion?"

 

Josh nods. "But I can't tell Tyler," he whispers. "This is the only job he can find. And if he can't find a job, he'll start drinking, and I can't go through that again, I _can't."_

 

"Shh," Debby says, leaning over and giving him a hug. He's a little surprised to realize that he's started to cry. 

 

"Now, you listen to me," she says softly. "You have Will. With me, it's hearing bells. But listen to me. One time I was getting ready to fly to LA when I started to hear bells. I got really dizzy, and once everything settled, I changed my flight to the one three hours later. But do you know what happened to the plane I was supposed to be on?"

 

"What?" Josh asks cautiously. 

 

"Nothing!" Debby tells him. "It landed, safe and sound."

 

"Oh."

 

"Nobody's got Glowing Eyes all the time," Debby tells him. "What you feel about this place? Probably nothing, yeah?"

 

Josh briefly remembers back to the time Will showed him a flash of Tyler bringing home a kitten for him. He waited excitedly, but it never happened. 

 

"Probably," he murmurs with a nod. 

 

Debby pauses, drumming her fingers on Josh's arm. 

 

"Listen, J," she begins, "I need you to promise me something."

 

"What?" Josh asks. 

 

"Promise me that you won't go into Room 21." She sighs. "It's probably nothing, but I think it'll do you good to avoid it."

 

"Why?" Josh asks warily. "Did something bad happen there?"

 

"Something very bad, yes," Debby says. "But it's– it's like a picture book, J, or a movie. Just images. Remember that, if you see anything. They're just images. They won't hurt you."

 

"Okay," Josh says slowly. 

 

"So if you see something, something in the halls, or by the maze, you just look the other way, all right?"

 

"All right."

 

"Good," Debby says. She leans in and gives Josh a tight hug, which Josh returns just as enthusiastically. 

 

"Your husband, though, he doesn't have the Eyes, does he?" Debby asks as she releases him. 

 

Josh frowns. "I don't think so. Why? Do you?"

 

Debby shakes her head slowly. "No. No, I don't. I just got a... weird sort of feeling for him." She shrugs, shaking it off. "It's probably nothing. Don't worry about it, J."

 

"Okay," Josh says as he hears a distinct thought of _Where's Josh? He's been talking to that woman for some time._ "I hear Tyler. I should go," he says, opening the car door. 

 

"All right, J. Have a good time, here. The best you can," Debby says as Josh gets out of the car. "And Josh?" Josh turns to face her. "If you run into any kind of trouble, just give me a call. A big one, just like you did earlier."

 

Josh nods. "Okay. Thank you, Debby." He closes the car door and waves at her before running back to the hotel. 

 

Uneasy, Debby starts the car and drives away.


	2. Part II

Tyler found a huge wicker chair at the back of the shed. He brought it out and set it on the porch, much to Josh's dismay, as he testified that it's "the ugliest thing known to man." So naturally, Tyler kept it. 

 

Tyler's sitting on the porch on the wicker chair, tapping notes into his laptop. His hand still aches from the stings he got from the wasps that swarmed when he accidentally stumbled upon their nest in the attic. Josh went down to town, trying to get in as much time in the city as he can before they're snowed in. 

 

Tyler hears the rumble of their car before he sees it, and he's already walking down to greet his husband before Josh is even parked.

 

"Hey," Tyler says, opening the car door for Josh. "How was your trip?"

 

"Very nice," Josh says. "I got a little Christmas shopping in too– no, don't look!" He bats Tyler's hand away playfully. "You take _those_ bags to the kitchen, mister," he says, pointing. 

 

"Drudge, drudge, drudge," Tyler complains melodramatically. "That's all I am to you. A drudge."

 

"Just drudge that milk over to the kitchen," Josh says cheerfully. 

 

Tyler throws his hands into the air, dropping to his knees. "It's too much!" he cries dramatically. 

 

Josh laughs, pulling him up. 

 

"Hey," Tyler says once he's back on his feet, "if you help me drudge these bags over to the kitchen, I'll give you a little something I found in the basement."

 

"Is it a dead mouse?" Josh says immediately. 

 

Tyler blinks at him. "What?"

 

"I keep hearing about how you're going to give Wentz all the dead mice you find in the basement," Josh says. 

 

A laugh is startled out of Tyler. "No, it's not a dead mouse. It's on the lobby desk. Go on."

 

As Tyler watches Josh dash to the lobby, he can't help but frown at how skinny Josh seems to have gotten. Not that Josh was heavy before; he was all muscle. But now he seems to have lost most of his muscle tone. 

 

Tyler shakes it off. It's probably just in his imagination. 

 

"Yes!" he hears Josh shout, and he grins. 

 

Josh comes dashing out, Metallica vinyl in hand. "You found this in the basement?" he asks. 

 

Tyler nods. "Yup. It must've been something that someone left behind and never came back for."

 

Josh is turning it over in his hands. "It's in great condition," he says. He turns to give Tyler a hug. "Thank you, Ty."

 

"No problem," he says. Josh releases him, and Tyler bends down to pick up a bag. "I'll drudge these over to the kitchen now," he says, and he beams as Josh laughs. 

 

 

Josh hums as he halfheartedly flips through a book. He's more concentrated on the clicks of the keys on Tyler's laptop. He hasn't heard such steady writing since the second year of their marriage, and it's like music to Josh's ears. If Tyler can get this volume of poetry done, it'll be the start of a new era. The volume doesn't even need to be published. Tyler just needs to get everything out of his system before they can truly be happy together. 

 

The typing comes and goes in irregular bursts, and it's the best thing Josh has ever heard. 

 

 

Tyler's deep into his writing when he realizes that Josh hasn't come out of the bathroom in ten minutes. Slightly irritated by having to leave his thoughts, Tyler gets up and walks over to the bathroom. He knocks on the door and waits. 

 

There's no reply. 

 

"Josh?" Tyler knocks on the door again. "Josh? You all right?"

 

All he can hear is rushing water. 

 

"Josh, answer me, please. You're scaring me."

 

No one responds. 

 

Tyler tries the door, and he's surprised to find that it's locked. That's not something Josh normally does. "I'm gonna kick the door down if you don't unlock it," he warns. 

 

Silence. 

 

"Josh. Open up."

 

Tyler's starting to lose his temper, and he grits his teeth, forcing away the red starting to creep in from the corners of his vision. 

 

"Josh, I'm gonna kick this door down in five seconds. Five... four... three... two..." Tyler aims his foot, "one."

 

The door gives easily under his blow, and Tyler stumbles in to see Josh sitting on the closed toilet seat, staring into the mirror across from him with glazed eyes. 

 

"Josh!" Tyler cries over the sound of the water rushing from the sink. He darts over to Josh, waving his fingers across Josh's eyes. "Josh!"

 

Josh doesn't answer. He just continues to stare into the mirror, making low, animal noises. 

 

"Josh?" Tyler asks hesitantly, shaking Josh's shoulders. "Josh!"

 

"...ahh. Hm. It has two sides."

 

"...Josh?"

 

"Two sides!" Josh shouts. "They have stingers. Sting... stingers. Keep– keep stinging."

 

"Josh? What's wrong with you?"

 

"The lion. Redrum."

 

Tyler shakes Josh again, more roughly this time, and Josh's eyes suddenly clear. 

 

"What?" he says, looking up at Tyler. "W-what's wr-wrong? T-Tyler? W-what–"

 

"NO STUTTERING!" Tyler suddenly bellows into Josh's face, feeling an overwhelming sense of fury flowing through his veins. _How could Josh know...?_

 

Josh stiffens, eyes growing wide, before bursting into tears. 

 

"No, no, shh," Tyler says, taking Josh into his arms. "Shh, J. I'm sorry, honey. Don't cry."

 

He flashes back to the moment when he held Josh's twisted arm in his hand, whispering practically the same words. 

 

_Don't cry, J. It's okay. You're okay, honey. I'm sorry._

 

Josh continues to heave sobs into Tyler's shoulder, and all Tyler can feel is cold, cold guilt. 

 

"Shh," Tyler murmurs, running his fingers through Josh's hair. "It's okay, baby. It's okay."

 

Josh finally calms down, and the first words out of his mouth are, "I'm sorry."

 

"No, no, there's nothing to be sorry for," Tyler assures him. "J... what in the world happened there?"

 

"I... I don't know," Josh says, looking as perplexed as Tyler feels. "I... why did you tell me to stop stuttering? I don't stutter."

 

"No, of course not," Tyler assures him, forcing down all the confusion and fear he feels bubbling in his stomach. 

 

"Take your medicine..." Josh mumbles to himself, and Tyler's body goes rigid. 

 

"What did you say?!" he demands, grabbing Josh's shoulders. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

 

"Tyler, stop, you're hurting me," Josh whimpers, and Tyler lets go of his husband immediately. 

 

"I'm sorry," he whispers. 

 

"I– I don't know what I said, Ty," Josh says quietly. "What... what did I say?"

 

"Nothing, nothing," Tyler says, feigning flippancy. "Just..." He sighs, giving Josh a hug. "Why did you lock the door, J?" he asks. "You don't normally do that."

 

Josh rests his head on Tyler's shoulder. "Will told me to."

 

Tyler stiffens. He'd thought that Josh had gotten over the "Will" thing. He supposes Josh might've just stopped telling Tyler about Will, which was fairly likely since Tyler made it clear that he thinks that Will is a figment of Josh's imagination.

 

"What happened, J?" Tyler asks quietly. "Did Will tell you anything else?"

 

"He said he had to show me again," Josh says, sounding drowsy. "I was brushing my teeth when I saw him in the mirror."

 

"He was behind you?"

 

"No, he was in the mirror. And then I followed him, and then you were shaking me, and I thought you were going to hurt me again."

 

Tyler winces, tightening his grip on Josh protectively. "No, no, I'm not going to hurt you," he murmurs.

 

"I know," Josh says, sounding far too trusting. 

 

Tyler swallows. "Did you see what Will wanted to show you?" he asks. 

 

Josh's whole body tenses. "N-no," he says, sounding distraught. "No, no, I can't remember, no, I don't remember anything!"

 

"Shh, shh," Tyler says softly, running his fingers through Josh's hair. "It's all right, J. You don't have to remember." He helps Josh stand up. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

 

Josh slides under the covers, and Tyler helps him tuck himself in. Josh looks very small. 

 

"Are you sure you're all right, J?" Tyler asks softly. 

 

"Yeah," Josh says, sounding sleepy. 

 

"Do you want some water?"

 

"No, thank you."

 

Josh is silent for a minute or so, eyes closed, and Tyler's about to go back to go back to his writing when he hears, "Wasps."

 

"What?"

 

"Ty?" Josh says, and Tyler wants to hug him when he hears how small Josh sounds. "You'd never hurt me, would you? Again, I mean."

 

"No, no, never," Tyler says, kneeling down and stroking Josh's cheek with his thumb. "Never again, J."

 

Josh falls silent once again. 

 

Tyler's about to leave when he hears Josh whisper, "Will told me about wasps."

 

Tyler stills. Is Josh referring to the stings on his hand? How could Josh know about them? He didn't tell him about the stings, and Josh couldn't have seen them; his hand is still bandaged. 

 

"What did Will say about wasps?" Tyler asks carefully. 

 

"Mm. Their stingers don't come out when they sting. That's what makes them so dangerous," Josh murmurs. He sounds nearly asleep. 

 

Tyler's about to leave once more when Josh says, "Ty, do you know what redrum is?"

 

"Red drum? No, I can't say I do."

 

He waits for a response, but there isn't one. "J?"

 

But Josh is asleep, breathing in and out steadily. Tyler looks at him for a moment before leaning in and kissing his forehead. Why had he yelled like that? Stuttering was perfectly normal for someone coming out of a trance or whatever it was. And maybe Josh had seen one of the dead wasps earlier and was remembering that as he was babbling. 

 

_Oh god I need a drink._

 

Tyler takes a deep breath. "I love you, Josh," he murmurs before he leaves the room.

 

 

_CRASH!_

 

He's running, twisting and turning through the maze. His bare feet hit the cold, cold ground. He's terrified, he can feel his heartbeat in his throat, but he can't scream, he can't, he can't he can't he can't a scream would give him away and then–

 

( _–_ then _REDRUM!)_

 

**_TAKE YOUR MEDICINE LIKE A MAN, YOU FUCKING CRYBABY!_ **

 

That voice, that horrible voice is coming for him, he knows it. He can hear it, feel it. The maze is a jungle and that voice belongs to a lion, a merciless lion, and he is its prey.

 

(But that lion is not a lion; it walks on two legs and is screaming–)

 

**_YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH! TAKE IT LIKE A MAN!_ **

 

He skids to a stop and turns the corner, fear colder than the snow at his feet. He's weeping with terror, that voice is closing in, and–

 

Something stings him. 

 

Josh's eyes fly open. 

 

"Hell," he mutters to himself when he sees the wasps on his hand. He doesn't process what's happening for a moment before letting out a shriek. 

 

There are at least eight wasps on his left hand, and without really thinking, he bats at them, sending them scattering before turning around and stinging his hand. He lets out a cry. 

 

"Josh?"

 

Tyler is standing there, still in his day clothes. He must've fallen asleep over his laptop again. 

 

"Wasps!" Josh gasps. 

 

"What?" Tyler says sounding drowsy. 

 

"Wasps!" Josh repeats, swatting at them fruitlessly with his hands. 

 

Tyler snaps into action. He grabs a book off of the dresser and begins swatting the wasps down. Josh finally gathers his bearings and grabs the magazine off the bedside table, beating the wasps down furiously. 

 

"Where did they come from?" Josh asks after all the wasps have been batted down. He wiggles his left hand experimentally and winces. 

 

"I found a wasp nest in the attic," Tyler says. "I thought I had killed them all, but I guess some must've followed me back. I got some stings, too." He holds out his bandaged hand for Josh to see before leaning over to look at Josh's hand. "Ouch, J."

 

Josh sighs. "At least I don't have to pull the stingers out."

 

"There's that," Tyler says. He takes a deep breath. "Josh, I made a doctor's appointment for you after you fell asleep. It's tomorrow."

 

"What kind of doctor?" Josh asks suspiciously. 

 

"General practitioner," Tyler says quickly. "I made one for me, too. Just to get us both checked up before we're snowed in here."

 

"Okay," Josh says quietly.

 

"Do you want me to go get some Tylenol or–"

 

"No," Josh says, shaking his head. "Can you just..." He pats the space in the bed next to him. 

 

"Oh, of course, J," Tyler says, crawling onto the bed. Josh rests his head on his chest, being mindful of his left hand. 

 

Josh closes his eyes. He can't even remember what his nightmare was about. 

 

 

_I need a drink, oh god._

 

 

"It's an electroencephalograph," Dr. Andrew "just call me Andy" Hurley says when he sees Josh's questioning eyes. "Also called an EEG."

 

"Why do I need an EEG?" Josh asks as the nurse begins to tape electrodes to his head. 

 

"I just want to make sure that you don't have epilepsy," Dr. Andy Hurley says. "No, stay lying down."

 

"Do you think I have epilepsy?" Josh asks. 

 

"From what you've described, it's a possibility," Dr. Hurley says, and suddenly Josh can hear the humming of the machine. "Tell me, Josh, before you have your... episodes, do you recall seeing flashing lights beforehand?"

 

"No."

 

"Smelling anything strange, maybe rotten?"

 

"Nope."

 

"Hearing things, like bells or whistles?"

 

"No."

 

"Do you ever feel like crying before them, even though you're not upset?"

 

"No."

 

"All right."

 

The EEG hums for a period of time afterwards before Dr. Hurley switches it off. 

 

"Do you think I have epilepsy?" Josh asks as the nurse pulls off the electrodes. 

 

Dr. Hurley shakes his head. "No, I don't think so. I'm going to send your results off to a specialist just in case, though."

 

Josh nods, sitting up. 

 

"Joe, could you give us a moment of time alone?" Dr. Hurley asks, and the nurse nods and leaves. 

 

"Josh, could you tell me about Will?"

 

Josh stiffens. "Did Tyler tell you about him?"

 

Dr. Hurley nods. "He's worried about you."

 

Josh sighs. "Will is... my imaginary friend. From when I was a child. Sometimes I still dream about him. That's all."

 

Dr. Hurley studies him. "I think that's something you'd like to believe, not the truth." He pats Josh's shoulder. "But I'm not going to tell Tyler what you say about him, not if you don't want me to. Doctor-patient confidentiality."

 

Josh carefully skims the doctor's thoughts, feeling the genuine intentions behind them. 

 

"I don't know who Will is," he says softly. 

 

"Do you know what he looks like?"

 

Josh shakes his head. "No. I'd say that he's in his mid-thirties, though. Maybe even his early forties. He seems older than me."

 

"And you always see him before you pass out?"

 

"I don't pass out. I follow him, and he shows me things."

 

Dr. Hurley is silent for a moment. "Do you like Will, Josh?" he asks. 

 

Josh pauses. "I don't know," he says slowly. "I used to really like him. He'd always visit at night when I'd be in bed and Tyler would be out. He'd show me good things. I needed good things then. Tyler was drinking then. And he thought about suicide a lot." He looks down at his left hand which had been bandaged earlier. "But now things are better, and he just shows me... other things."

 

"What kinds of things?"

 

Josh shudders a little. "I... I can never remember. It's always so bad that it's like my mind deletes everything. Everything except redrum."

 

"Redrum? Red drum or red rum?"

 

"Rum."

 

"What is that?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"Can you make Will come right now?"

 

Josh bites his lip. "I don't know... I've never tried with other people with me before. It might not work."

 

"It doesn't have to work. I just want you to try."

 

Josh nods, closing his eyes. 

 

Focusing on Tyler, he begins to work through his husband's thoughts. It's harder when he can't see Tyler, but it's not difficult. 

 

Tyler. Tyler is scrolling through twitter on his phone, but he isn't reading anything. He's– he's worried. About Josh?

 

 _–_ _god what if he has brain cancer or meningitis or hepatitis or mononucleosis or leukemia or heart disease or ALS like his dad or no no don't think about that he's fine he's fine we're okay_ _–_

 

_Josh_

 

 _–_ _we're okay he's okay we're okay_ _–_

 

_Joshua_

 

 _–_ _stop worrying we're_ _–_

 

_JOSH!_

 

Down Josh tumbles, following Will's voice. He tries hard not to be scared, but he can't help it. He's terrified. 

 

_See Tyler?_

 

Josh sees. Tyler is wandering through the halls of The Green Lion when he pauses at Room 21. 

 

 _No,_ Josh tries to shout, _no, don't go in_ _–_

 

The scene changes, and everything is dark. And Will is there. 

 

_This place makes monsters._

 

"Will?"

 

_This place makes monsters._

 

**_take your medicine take your medicine take your medicine take your_ **

 

_This place makes monsters._

 

"Will? I want to go back now."

 

_This place makes monsters. This place makes monsters._

 

**_medicine take your medicine take your medicine take your medicine_ **

 

_This_

 

**_come out_ **

 

_place_

 

**_you bitch_ **

 

_makes_

 

**_and take_ **

 

_human_

 

**_it like_ **

 

_monsters_

 

**_a MAN!_ **

 

Josh gasps, eyes flying open. There are hands, hands on him, and he shrinks away, shaking violently. 

 

"–okay," he hears someone saying. "You're okay. You're at the doctor's office. You're okay."

 

Slowly Josh's breaths even out, and he looks up at the doctor, still shuddering a little. 

 

"You okay now?" Dr. Hurley asks, squeezing Josh's shoulder. 

 

Josh nods. 

 

"You were saying something about monsters, Josh. Can you remember what you were talking about?"

 

"This– this place..." Josh tries, searching his mind. "This place, it..." He shakes his head. "I can't remember."

 

"Try."

 

"I can't."

 

"Was Will there?"

 

"Yes."

 

"What did he show you?"

 

"Darkness."

 

"Is that it?"

 

"No."

 

"What else, then?"

 

"I can't remember!" Josh cries, burying his head in his hands. He tries not to cry. 

 

"It's okay. It's okay," Dr. Hurley says gently, rubbing his back. "I won't ask any more questions."

 

Once Josh can breathe normally again, Dr. Hurley asks, "Josh, is it all right if I tell Tyler what happened here?"

 

Slowly, Josh nods. "I guess so," he sighs. "He'd find out eventually anyways."

 

 

"Physically, there's nothing wrong with him," Dr. Hurley tells Tyler. 

 

"Mentally?" Tyler asks, holding his breath. 

 

"Well, this is where I get a little confused," Dr. Hurley admits. "If he were a child, I'd dismiss this to an overly active imagination. However, since he's an adult, I'd normally suspect this to be some form of schizophrenia."

 

Tyler's eyes widen. "I– I didn't think anything was wrong mentally... I thought maybe a brain tumor?"

 

"We did an MRI scan," Dr. Hurley says. "Like I said, nothing wrong physically." He sits down next to Tyler. "I'm not a psychiatrist, but I wouldn't say that he has schizophrenia either."

 

"Then what do you think is wrong?" Tyler asks anxiously. 

 

"I would say that Will is a product of stress," Dr. Hurley says. 

 

Tyler frowns. "Josh told me that Will's been with him all his life. Has he been stressed all his life, too?"

 

"Has he always had fainting spells?"

 

Slowly, Tyler shakes his head. 

 

"When did they start?"

 

"Hmm." Tyler thinks about it for a moment. "I would say maybe three years ago."

 

"Did something particularly stressful happen then?"

 

Tyler buries his head in his hands and lets out a sigh. "I... I lost my job."

 

Dr. Hurley takes a deep breath. "I... Well, I'll have to inform you that Josh believes you seriously considered suicide then."

 

Tyler's eyes widen. "I– I never said anything to him! I didn't think he knew..." He shakes his head to clear it. "I... I'm not anymore. If you were wondering."

 

"He spoke nonchalantly about it, as if you are no longer considering it," Dr. Hurley says with a nod. 

 

Tyler nods slowly, taking a deep breath. "I... I think it would be best if you could see the whole picture," he says. "Not too long after Josh and I got married, I became an alcoholic. My writing– I'm a writer– started suffering, and that only made me drink more. And... and a little over two years ago, I... god, I broke his arm. Pulling him away from my notebooks. He had spilled coffee on them." He squeezes his eyes shut. "Not too long afterwards, I gave up drinking."

 

"I see," Dr. Hurley says with a nod, nothing about his expression giving away his thoughts. "When I examined him today, I couldn't find any signs of physical abuse. No odd looking bruises or anything."

 

"No, I didn't mean–" Tyler begins before pausing. He sighs. "No. God, there's never a day that I don't wish I could take back everything." He rubs his eyes. "You wanna know something? This is the first time suicide has been brought up out loud. Or alcoholism. Or spousal abuse."

 

"That may be part of the problem," Dr. Hurley says. "I can recommend you a psychiatrist, but I think it would be best for you to talk it out first."

 

"Will do," Tyler says, standing up and shaking the doctor's hand. "Thank you."

 

"Of course," Dr. Hurley says. "And you know why Will is called Will, as opposed to Jack or Tony or Dave, correct?"

 

"Yes," Tyler says. "I haven't pointed it out, though. Should I?"

 

"You don't need to," Dr. Hurley says. "I think it might be better if he figured it out on his own."

 

"All right," Tyler says. "Thank you, doc."

 

"Oh, and before you go," Dr. Hurley says, and Tyler pauses, "does the word 'redrum' mean anything to you?"

 

"Red drum. Yes. He said that last night before he fell asleep."

 

"Rum," the doctor says. "He was specific about that. Rum. Like the drink."

 

"Oh," Tyler says, running a hand through his hair. "Fitting."

 

"Don't worry too much," Dr. Hurley says, patting Tyler's back. "I have a feeling that you two will be fine."

 

 

_"I need you to promise me something."_

 

_"What?"_

 

_"Promise me that you won't go into Room 21."_

 

The door to Room 21 is a perfectly normal looking door, no different from the rest. Like all of the doors, it had a peephole. Uselessly, Josh tried to peer through it, but only got darkness. That was on only the second day, when curiosity already became too much. 

 

Josh wanders the hallways of The Green Lion aimlessly, searching for... Searching. He doesn't know what. He makes his way to the first floor and pauses before Room 21. The key, the key that opens all the rooms, is hanging in the main office. He briefly contemplates going inside and getting the key, but he decides against it. He shouldn't go in there. Tyler could be in trouble if Wentz came back and found that things had changed. 

 

Without thinking about it, Josh finds his right hand plunging into his pocket and pulling out the card key. It was in his pocket all along, then. He knew that. 

 

Did he?

 

No longer connected to himself, Josh watches as his hand slides the key into the slip. He stops, just staring at it. 

 

His curiosity is like a mosquito bite; it itches so badly, but he shouldn't scratch it. 

 

Then his left hand moves up. Josh watches it, fascinated, wondering what it's going to do. 

 

His left hand jerks the key out and shoves it back into his pocket.

 

Snapping back to himself, Josh stumbles away from the door. 

 

_"Did something bad happen there?"_

 

_"Something very bad, yes."_

 

Turning around, Josh half-walks, half-runs away. He hopes he doesn't seem too scared, twisting and turning through the maze-like halls of The Green Lion. 

 

_It doesn't matter, does it? It's not like anyone can see him._

 

Just as he thinks that, Josh feels the hairs on the back of his neck raise, and he has the eerie sense that he's being watched. 

 

"Hello?" he calls out warily. 

 

Silence. 

 

 _Stupid,_ he scolds himself. _Tyler's taking a walk. There's no one else here._ He begins walking to the kitchen at normal pace. 

 

Again, that feeling of being heavily scrutinized comes back. Hesitantly, Josh peers behind him. A statue of a lion is sitting at the end of the hall. It's gray, unlike the name of the hotel. It seems to be staring straight at Josh. 

 

 _Stupid,_ he thinks again. _It's a statue. It's not real._ He turns back around and begins walking again. 

 

There's a loud _thump,_ and Josh spins around. 

 

The lion is closer. 

 

 _Imagination,_ Josh thinks somewhat frantically. _It's your imagination._ He turns around and begins to walk away again, a bit faster than before. 

 

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

 

Heart in his throat, Josh turns around again. And the lion is close. 

 

Very close. 

 

Its marble eyes are gleaming, and its teeth are bared. Josh swallows hard. Slowly, he takes a step back, not taking his eyes off the lion. Vaguely, he recalls the game "red light, green light" he played as a child. 

 

"Red light," he says softly to himself, staring at the lion. 

 

Of course, the lion doesn't move. 

 

"Stupid," he says aloud to himself. "It's a statue. What can it do?"

 

_Yes? What can it do? What can it do with those sharp teeth but bite?_

 

_and bite and bite and bite?_

 

Josh yelps, spinning around and running. _Green light!_

 

_Thump. Thump thump thump thump thump._

 

Josh swallows hard before turning back around. He has to be sure. _Red light!_

 

The lion is right there, crouched to pounce. 

 

"God," he whispers to himself. 

 

He stares into its gaping mouth. Its teeth are gleaming in the light, and Josh thinks he can detect a small, writhing movement inside its mouth. Bees?

 

Wasps?

 

Maybe this lion has a mouth full of wasps. 

 

 _Don't be silly,_ he thinks wildly to himself. _It's a lion. It doesn't have wasps in its mouth._

 

_It's not a lion, it's a statue._

 

_If statues can run, why can't it have wasps in its mouth?_

 

"God," he repeats before turning around and running for the stairs that lead to the second floor. _Green light!_

 

When he gets to the stairs, he turns back around, preparing to flee up the stairs. 

 

The lion is back where it started out. 

 

"Stupid," he says out loud. "It never chased you. You're just stupid."

 

The lion stares at him, almost as if it's mocking him. Asking him to come back and try again. 

 

Josh dashes away. 

 

 

"Hey!" 

 

Tyler looks up to see Josh walking in, cheeks pink and mouth beaming at Tyler. 

 

"Did you get a lot written today?" Josh asks. 

 

Tyler grits his teeth. "Yeah."

 

"That's good. What do you think you'll be wanting for dinner?"

 

"Dunno."

 

"Hey, you're looking a little pale. Are you feeling all right?"

 

"Yes." Stop _nagging._

 

"Good. We can't have you getting sick, especially since it's supposed to snow in a couple days, and I think that might be it."

 

"Oh, goody."

 

Josh frowns. "Hey, don't be so grouchy."

 

"I'm not _grouchy,_ I'm just trying to _work."_

 

"Right, sorry," Josh says sounding genuinely contrite. "How 'bout I bring a couple sandwiches up for you?"

 

Tyler slams his laptop shut. "Look, Joshua," he says, "let me explain something to you. When you come in here and bother me, you break my concentration. And when you break my concentration, I cannot write. So let's make a rule," he says, watching Josh's face slowly grow paler, "whether you hear me typing or don't hear me typing, that means I am working. That means do not come in here. Do you think you can handle that?"

 

Josh swallows. "Yeah."

 

"So why don't you start right now and get the fuck out?"

 

"Okay." Josh turns on his heel and heads for the door. 

 

Tyler sighs. "Wait, Josh." Josh looks at him. "I'm sorry, J. I'm under a lot of stress right now."

 

"I understand," Josh says quietly. "I'll go now." He leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. 

 

Tyler sighs, deleting his document. He lost his temper. 

 

_I need a drink so badly, god._

 

 

Josh lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Tyler is slumbering next to him, their bodies pressed together. He grips his blanket tightly, feeling as though he's playing the unwilling protector of Tyler. He hates the nights here, especially the ones when he can't sleep. The wind howls, and his nightmares come increasingly more frequently.

 

He'd almost gone to tell Tyler about the lion statue chasing him, but he decided against it. Instead, he opted to go walk around in the hedge maze. (He wasn't scared of getting lost, though, he had a map of it in his head already. Somehow.)

 

He's afraid that Tyler will think that he's going mad (or b a t s h i t  c r a z y). 

 

He had Will all his life, but he never mentioned him until he was six years old. That was when he told a Big Kid that he has a friend only he can see. 

 

The Big Kid (a nine year old boy) had whistled and told him it sounded like he was b a t s h i t  c r a z y. 

 

"What's b a t s h i t  c r a z y?" Josh had asked. 

 

"It's when you go," the boy twirled his finger in circles around his next to his ear, "cuckoo. You better watch out. One day you might really lose it and wind up in t h e  n u t h o u s e."

 

"What's that?" 

 

"It's where you go when you go b a t s h i t  c r a z y."

 

"When can you leave?"

 

"Never."

 

"Never ever?"

 

"n e v e r  e v e r  e v e r."

 

Later, Josh had asked his father what the boy was talking about, leaving out how the topic came up, of course. His father quietly explained to him that it's not b a t s h i t  c r a z y, it's m e n t a l l y  u n s t a b l e. It's not t h e  n u t h o u s e, it's t h e  m e n t a l  h o s p i t a l. But even if it's called m e n t a l l y  u n s t a b l e instead of b a t s h i t  c r a z y, you'd be taken away to t h e  n u t h o u s e and held there even if you call it t h e  m e n t a l  h o s p i t a l. 

 

"But when do you leave?" Josh had asked. 

 

"Josh," his father had replied, "i t  d e p e n d s."

 

i t  d e p e n d s, as Josh figured out, was just another way of saying n e v e r  e v e r  e v e r. 

 

He'd kept quiet about Will, fearing his mother would one day pick up the phone and say, "Hello, this is Laura Dun. My son has gone b a t s h i t  c r a z y. Yes, please take him to t h e  n u t h o u s e. Thank you very much." And then a truck would come and take him to a room with padded walls and no windows. When would he see his family again? n e v e r  e v e r  e v e r.

 

Finally, when he was thirteen, the secret was too much to keep, and Josh told his mother. 

 

She responded to him with words not too different from the Big Kid's, about locking him up. He'd better keep quiet, she said, or they'll strap you down and electrocute you. Stick needles up your nose. 

 

And Josh kept quiet. 

 

Will came tumbling out to Tyler after Josh's first fainting spell in front of his husband. He'd been overwhelmed, and Tyler had kept asking questions. Unable to think clearly, he answered them. 

 

Tyler almost never talked about Will, only on occasion. He didn't, doesn't seem to think that Josh was, is insane (b a t s h i t  c r a z y). But a moving statue of a lion? That might convince him.

 

Josh briefly thinks about telling Tyler, telling him about the statue that chased him. Telling him about the visions he's been having about this place. Then Tyler might get them out of this hotel, and they'd be safe. 

 

But this is Tyler's last chance. 

 

He needs this job, _needs_ it like air. And Josh needs it too. If Tyler has to leave this job, then he will drink, and Josh will suffer right along with him. 

 

**_Take your medicine!_ **

 

Josh shivers under the covers, snuggling closer to Tyler. The snow is coming soon, he knows that, and they'll be stuck here in The Green Lion until spring. And what might the hotel do then, if a statue chasing him was only the beginning? What then? _Then REDRUM._

 

Josh rests his head on Tyler's chest, curling his body around his husband's. When would they be completely okay? i t  d e p e n d s. 

 

_Also known as n e v e r  e v e r  e v e r._

 

 

A layer of thick, white snow now lays over The Green Lion and its grounds. Tyler and Josh amused themselves for a couple hours in the morning sliding down one of the hills using a large sheet of plastic Tyler found in the shed.

 

Now they sit curled up together on the sofa before the fireplace, where they have a fire roaring. Tyler rests his head on Josh's shoulder.

 

"Hey," he says quietly, and Josh looks at him. "I love you. I'll always love you. It might not always seem like it, but I love you so, so much."

 

Josh's eyes are as warm as ever, and Tyler feels as though he could sink into them. "I love you, too."

 

 

Josh is standing just outside of Room 21 again. 

 

His key is in his pocket, and he's practically shaking with both avidity and anxiety. He's humming no tune in particular. 

 

He hadn't wanted to come back, not after the lion. But curiosity is the strongest force he's ever happened upon, and it tugged him, tugged him hard back to Room 21.

 

_Curiosity killed the cat,_

 

He glances over to the lion statue. It's as still as, well, a statue. 

 

_but satisfaction brought it back._

 

And hadn't Debby said that "it's like a picture book, J, or a movie. Just images. Remember that, if you see anything. They're just images. They won't hurt you."? He will be okay. 

 

_You promised._

 

_p r o m i s e s  a r e  m e a n t  t o  b e  b r o k e n_

 

He jumps. That... that was not his thought. 

 

_p r o m i s e s  a r e  m e a n t  t o  b e  b r o k e n  m y  d e a r  b o y  b r o k e n  s h a t t e r e d  s p l i n t e r e d  a p a r t_

 

Josh's humming turns into a song that he heard sung around when he was little. _Lizzy Borden took an axe_

 

_m y  d e a r  r e d r u m  t h e y  w e r e_

 

_gave her mother forty whacks_

 

_m a d e  t o  b e  b r o k e n  t h e y  w e r e  m a d e_

 

_when she saw what she had done_

 

_t o  b e  b r o k e n  y e s  t h e y  w e r e  m a d e  t o  b e  b r o k e n_

 

_she gave her father forty-one_

 

Josh squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will the voices away. Whatever he'll see in there, they're just going to be images. They can't hurt him. 

 

_butimagescanmakepeopledothingscan'ttheyimagescangivepeoplenightmaresandnightmarescanmakepeopleparanoidandparanoidpeoplemighthurtotherpeoplebecausethey'resoworriedaboutbeingattackedbysomethingoftheirnightmareswhichcamefromtheimagesbecausebecausebecausebecausebecausebecausebecause_

 

_Lizzy Borden_

 

_c u r i o s i t y  k i l l e d  t h e  c a t  b u t  s a t i s f a c t i o n  b r o u g h t  i t  b a c k_

 

_took an axe_

 

_p e t e r  p e t e r  p u m p k i n  e a t e r  h a d  a  w i f e  b u t  c o u l d  n o t  k e e p  h e r_

 

_gave her mother_

 

_o n e  f o r  s o r r o w  t w o  f or  m i r t h  t h r e e  f o r  d e a t h  f o u r  f o r  b i r t h_

 

_forty whacks_

 

_a n d  t h e y  a l l  g o  m a r c h i n g  d o w n_

 

_when she saw what_

 

_s e e  h o w  t h e y  r u n  s e e  h o w  t h e y  r u n?_

 

_she had done_

 

_i  a m  w e e p i n g  f o r  a  l o v e d  o n e  a  l o v e d  o n e  a  l o v e d  o n e  i  a m  w e e p i n g  f o r  a  l o v e d  o n e  o n  a  b r i g h t  s u m m e r  d a y_

 

_she gave her father_

 

_n e e d l e s  a n d  p i n s  n e e d l e s  a n d  p i n s  w h e n  a  m a n  m a r r i e s  h i s  t r o u b l e  b e g i n s_

 

_forty-one_

 

"STOP!" Josh shrieks, hands over his ears, and the voices stop. "You can't do nothing," he says, turning to the lion. "You can't do _nothing!"_ He glares at the lion statue, aiming a kick. "Come on, chase me. Hurt me. Come on. Try, you little shit. No? Nothing? That's right! You can't do _NOTHING!"_ It's just a statue, after all, just a statue. It never chased him. But he'd ran anyways, he'd ran away, hurried along, hurried hurried hurried because he was 

 

(late, I'm late.)

 

the white rabbit, yes. It was never a lion, it was a rabbit, a white rabbit, yes, of course. It was never a lion. 

 

Josh takes the card key from his pocket and slides it into the lock. 

 

(No time to say hello, goodbye, I'm late, I'm late, I'm late.)

 

Head heavy and throat dry, Josh turns the doorknob. 

 

_Lizzie Borden took an axe_

 

(OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!)

 

_gave her mother forty whacks_

 

 _(_ OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!)

 

_when she saw what she had done_

 

(OFF WITH YOUR HEAD! OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!)

 

_she gave her father forty-one_

 

(OFF WITH YOUR HEEEEEEAAAAAAAD!)

 

He opens the door and walks inside. 

 

It's a perfectly ordinary-looking room, not too different than the other hotel rooms Josh has been in. There's a double bed and a (why is a raven like a) writing desk, along with a dresser with a television atop it. There's a bathroom in the corner of the room, and as if in a trance, he slowly walks towards it. 

 

The bathroom is also ordinary-looking, with a toilet, a sink, and a bathtub. The shower curtain is pulled closed, and almost dreamily, Josh pulls it back. 

 

The woman lying in the tub has been dead for a very long time. 

 

She's lying in ice-rimmed water, naked. Her skin is a dark purple, the color of a bruise. Her body is grotesque and bloated. She's grinning, mouth pulled back to show yellowed teeth. Her eyes are glazed, glassy as marble, and staring up into Josh's.

 

Josh lets out a small shriek, practically tripping over himself trying to get back. His socked feet skid over the tile, and he grabs the wall. 

 

The woman is sitting up, her marble eyes fixed on his. 

 

Still grinning, she slowly stands up. There are sickening squelching sounds when she moves, dead flesh on porcelain. Josh gags as the stench of decomposing flesh reaches his nose. She slowly cocks her head, yellow teeth bared, and that's when Josh's urine breaks, wetting his underwear and pants. 

 

Josh turns and bolts out of the bathroom, screaming at the top of his lungs. He slams against the door to the hallway, beyond able to think rationally. He could simply open the door, but he's beyond able to realize that. He hangs on the door wildly, for he can hear the corpse of the woman slowly making her way towards him. 

 

The door won't open, won't open, won't OPEN.

 

 _"But it's_ _–_ _it's like a picture book, J, or a movie. Just images. Remember that, if you see anything. They're just images. They won't hurt you."_

 

Debby was right. She's right, of course. Weak with relief, Josh nearly starts to cry. He closes his eyes. 

 

_there's nothing there there's nothing there there's NOTHING THERE._

 

Josh finally begins to relax. He can't hear or smell the woman, and he finally begins to realize that he can open the door, open the door and leave. He reaches for the doorknob when clammy hands grab his shoulders and wrench him around, and he stares into her bruise-colored face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sufficiently creepy or no?
> 
> Shoutout to odetosleep for being my beta.


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't been posting a lot I've had really bad writer's block and also writing used to be my coping mechanism but now it's binging entire seasons of various TV shows *heavy sigh*

Tyler sighs, closing his laptop and sliding down on his chair. His thoughts have drifted from his writing to his father, and it's impossible to write when all he can think about is that lumbering force of a man.  

 

When Tyler was little, his father was his favorite person in the world. He loved him wholly and strongly, despite the spankings and bruises and black eyes. He'd wait up every night for his father to come home, and when he did, he'd pick Tyler up and throw him into the air, both of them laughing. Sometimes his father would be too drunk, and Tyler would go hurtling past him, slamming against the wall. Other time his father would catch him, and Tyler would be set back down on his feet, giggling. 

 

It didn't seem strange to him then, that his father would win every argument with his family members with his fists. It didn't seem odd that love and fear were one and the same; he loved it when his father would throw him up into the air, but he was always afraid that his father would drop him. He loved it when his father would be home, but he was always afraid he'd see his father's shadow falling over him, baseball bat in hand.

 

He hadn't noticed at the time, that his siblings were slowly starting to resent their father. They suffered his father's beatings just as much as Tyler, maybe more. And they were starting to resent his mother for allowing it, as well as Tyler, the eldest, for he was unable to protect them. To even acknowledge that what was happening was wrong. 

 

And then, when he was twelve, his father nearly killed his mother with his baseball bat. 

 

They were having Sunday dinner, a meal his mother prepared. His father, a baseball fan, had taken to carrying a baseball bat around the house with him for no discernible reason. Tyler didn't like the bat, but he loved his father, so he never said anything. 

 

Zack was saying something about basketball, Maddy joining in occasionally, when out of nowhere, Tyler's father whipped the bat up and slammed it against his mother's face. Blood splurged out of her nose, staining the mashed potatoes pink. Someone screamed. Tyler still doesn't know who. 

 

His father drew the bat back and thrust it forward again, air around it whistling. It hit the top of his mother's head this time, scalp opening and gushing blood. She slipped out of her chair and fell to the ground, looking dazed. 

 

For four more blows, Tyler and his siblings watched their father beat their mother with a baseball bat, shock rendering them immobile. 

 

 **"Take your medicine, you little _shit,"_** his father was growling. **"Come on, take your medicine. Take it!"**

 

Snapping to reality, Zack and Maddy wrestled their father away from their mother into the next room. Tyler and Jay were crying, staring at their mother as she slowly got to her feet and said, "Who's got the dust mop? Your brother wanted to paint it blue. Oh, dear, not the eleventh." And then she dropped to her knees before passing out and collapsing. 

 

His father told the doctors that she fell down the stairs. His mother didn't say anything. 

 

Tyler sighs, squirming in his chair before his laptop, beginning to doze off.

 

His father died not too long after that, suffering an unexpected heart attack at work. Tyler was a mixture of relieved and horribly grief-filled. His father had begun to hit him around **_(take your medicine, you faggot! take it like a man, you fucking crybaby!)_** more when his mother was in the hospital, and Tyler had slowly learned to hate him. But staring at his father's grave, Tyler couldn't help but remember how his father would throw him up into the air and catch him, both laughing with glee.

 

Tyler slips into an uneasy sleep, dreams full of images of Josh screaming as Tyler's father (Tyler?) swung a baseball bat onto him. 

 

 

 

 

 

"Josh? Josh? Josh!"

 

Josh slowly blinks bleary eyes open. "Ty– Tyler?"

 

 _"Josh,"_ Tyler says, grabbing Josh's hand and squeezing it. 

 

"Where– where am I?" Josh asks, slowly sitting up. He winces as he moves his neck. "What happened?"

 

"You have bruises all over your neck, J," Tyler whispers. 

 

Josh pulls his phone out of his pocket and slides open the camera, gasping when he sees the finger-shaped bruises on his throat. 

 

"Did you do this?" he asks without thinking, and Tyler reels back.

 

"Is that what you think?" Tyler demands. "Is that _how_ you think? That whenever you have bruises that you don't remember getting, it means that I did it?"

 

"No, Ty, I'm sure–"

 

"You shut the fuck up," Tyler says, pointing a finger at Josh. "How _dare_ you?"

 

"I'm sorry, Tyler, I wasn't thinking..." Vaguely, Josh registers that they're doing this conversation the wrong way. 

 

"I can't believe this," Tyler says, standing up.

 

"Wait, Ty–"

 

"Don't follow me," Tyler growls as he stalks off, leaving Josh on the hallway floor, right in front of the closed door of Room 21. 

 

 

 

 

Tyler stalks down the hallways, muttering angrily to himself. 

 

_How dare he? Why does he have to assume the worst of Tyler?_

 

He flashes back to the moments he'd come home after he had stopped drinking. Josh would kiss him as soon as he stepped inside, and Tyler knows it was to check for liquor on his breath. 

 

 _Why can't that little shit just_ trust _him for once?_

 

Never in his life would he harm Josh. 

 

("He fell down the stairs, doctor.")

 

Never in his life would he harm Josh now. 

 

("Tyler, stop, you're hurting me.")

 

_Shut the fuck up!_

 

Tyler wanders into the ballroom of the hotel, momentarily forgetting his husband and the bruises. He makes his way through the empty tables, moving towards the bar. 

 

"Spencer," Tyler says with a grin, sliding onto the barstool.

 

Spencer greets him. 

 

"Bit slow, isn't it?"

 

Spencer agrees, and he then asks him what it'll be tonight. 

 

"By gosh, Spence, am I glad you asked me that," Tyler says. "I'm having a tough day, I am."

 

Spencer sympathizes. 

 

"So I'd like some of the strongest you got," Tyler says, "and thirty-seven of them. Line 'em up in a row, please."

 

Spencer turns around to do the job. 

 

Tyler reaches into his pocket before realizing that he left his wallet in the room. 

 

"I seem to be a bit light at the moment," Tyler tells Spencer. 

 

Spencer tells him that they're on the house. 

 

"Good man," Tyler says with a nod. "You're the best barkeep I've ever met, Spence. Best damn one. And I've met a lot of barkeeps in my time."

 

Spencer thanks him. 

 

"Good man," Tyler says again, watching as Spencer lines the drinks up. He observes the drinks for a moment. God, he can almost smell them. 

 

Tyler grabs the drink closest to him and drains it in one go. He pulls his face into a grimace as he sets the glass down. 

 

"Brilliant, Spence," Tyler says. "Thirty-six more to go."

 

He drains four more drinks in rapid succession, enjoying the almost lightheaded feeling he's getting. _God, it's been so long._

 

Tyler makes it down until there's only eight drinks left when he pauses, memory of Josh collapsed on the ground, pants wet with what Tyler assumes to be urine, purple bruises stark against his pale throat infiltrating his thoughts. God, he didn't even pause to think of who did it to Josh. Whoever it was, they could still be in the hotel, waiting to finish Josh off. And what's Tyler doing? Drinking imaginary drinks while talking to himself. 

 

Eerily on cue, Tyler hears Josh softly say his name. 

 

Tyler whirls around to see Josh standing there in the doorway of the ballroom, staring at him with wide eyes. He has his arms wrapped tightly around himself, as though he's trying to keep himself warm. Maybe he is. 

 

"I didn't touch you, J, I swear," Tyler says softly. 

 

"I know," Josh says weakly. "I know. I remember who did it."

 

"Who did?"

 

Josh opens his mouth, but instead of an answer coming out, a loud shriek comes out of his mouth. His eyes roll up into his head, and he drops to his knees, scream still tearing out of his throat.

 

"Josh!" Tyler gasps, leaping off of his barstool and running over to his husband. "Josh, sweetheart, can you hear me?" he asks frantically, pulling Josh into his arms. 

 

Josh continues to scream like a banshee, the noise higher than Tyler ever thought he could make. He combs his fingers through Josh's hair, trying to soothe him. He notes, at the back of his mind, that Josh's body is damp, and it doesn't feel like sweat. 

 

"Baby, it's okay, it's okay, love," Tyler murmurs, and Josh's screams eventually taper off into sobs. Tyler can feel the hot, wet tears seeping through his shirt, and he cradles Josh's body as the other man sobs into his shoulder.

 

"It-it w-w-was h-her," Josh gets out. 

 

"Who?" Tyler asks, rubbing his back. 

 

"The-the d-dead woman. In... in Room 21."

 

Tyler blinks. "Who?"

 

"This place is _bad,_ Tyler," Josh wails into Tyler's shoulder. "This place is _bad."_

 

"I know, J, but things are going to be all right," Tyler tries. 

 

"No, no, they're _not,"_ Josh whimpers. "No, Ty, things are gonna get _worse."_

 

"You can't know that, honey. It's going to–"

 

"I _know!"_ Josh shrieks. "Things are gonna get _worse!"_

 

"Josh, sweetie, you're not thinking straight," Tyler says, pulling Josh away from him so they can look each other in the eye. "You've had a _really_ rough day, baby, and everything's going to seem worse than it is."

 

"No," Josh sniffles, burying his head back into Tyler's shoulder. "No, things are _bad_ here. I want to go home, Ty. I want to be okay with you again."

 

"Oh, sweetheart," Tyler whispers. 

 

"She tried to kill me," Josh mumbles into Tyler's shirt, and Tyler goes still. "The dead woman in the bathtub in Room 21. She wasn't even _thinking,_ Ty, not in the way you think, at least. It was just black, black and evil. She _wanted_ to hurt. Like the wasps. She was a wasp, Ty. Like the ones in the lion's mouth. Except it wasn't a lion, it was a rabbit. Oh, _Tyler,_ I'm _late!"_

 

("Who's got the dust mop? Your brother wanted to paint it blue. Oh, dear, not the eleventh.")

 

"Josh, you're obviously very overwhelmed right now," Tyler says, wrapping his arms around his husband and holding him as tightly as humanly possible. "So let's go to our room, let you calm down and maybe nap a little bit, and then we can discuss this, okay?"

 

Josh nods weakly. 

 

"Okay," Tyler says, helping Josh stand. "Let's get you to bed."

 

 

 

 

Josh feels completely drained when he opens his eyes. 

 

"Heya," Tyler says, and Josh turns his head to see Tyler lying next to him. "Feeling better?"

 

"Yeah," Josh says, rubbing his eyes. God, he can barely remember last night. 

 

"Do you want to talk?" Tyler asks. 

 

"Okay," Josh murmurs. He blinks, suddenly sitting up. "Tyler!"

 

"What's wrong?" Tyler asks, sounding alarmed. 

 

"She's in Room 21!" Josh says, turning to Tyler. "She could still hurt us!" 

 

"Josh, what are you talking about?"

 

"The woman in Room 21!" Josh shouts. 

 

"Josh, there's no one in Room 21," Tyler says gently. 

 

"Yes, there is!" Josh exclaims. 

 

"I'll go down and check, J," Tyler says. "Right now. And there won't be anyone there."

 

"No!" Josh lurches forwards and presses Tyler to the bed. "No, you can't go in there!"

 

"I'll be fine, J," Tyler says, and Josh remembers. 

 

Tyler doesn't have Glowing Eyes. 

 

Tyler will be fine. 

 

"Okay," he whispers. 

 

"You stay here, and I'll be right back," Tyler says. 

 

"Okay," Josh repeats. "The... the key's here." He pulls the card key out of his pocket. 

 

Tyler's expression is unreadable. "Okay," he says. 

 

Josh hesitates for a moment before throwing his arms around Tyler. "I love you."

 

Tyler hugs him back, a tad belatedly. "I love you too, J."

 

 

 

 

Shaking his head a little, Tyler makes his way down to Room 21. He pauses to note the lion statue at the end of the hallway. Was that the lion Josh was talking about?

 

He shrugs it off, slipping the key into the slip and opens the door to Room 21. There isn't anything particularly noticeable about the room, and he makes his way towards the bathroom. 

 

The bathroom is steamy when Tyler opens it, and he blinks in surprise as he watches a beautiful woman, very naked, pull back the shower curtain and step out of the bathtub. He watches, transfixed, as she places each hand on his shoulders, smiling slightly. She leans in, and they're kissing. 

 

Tyler had forgotten the softness of a woman. He's used to Josh, used to firmer muscle and kisses quick and competitive. He's used to the firm flatness of a man's chest, not the soft fullness of a woman's. He's used to low, needy grunts, not quiet, soft gasps. Tyler... Tyler missed this. 

 

He opens his eyes and steals a glance in the mirror, reeling back in horror when he realizes that the woman's skin is purpled, peeling away. 

 

She grins at him, teeth yellowed and eyes like marble, bursting into a low, throaty laugh. Tyler skids back, eyes wide as she slowly advances towards him, arms out. 

 

Tyler steps out of the bathroom and slams the door before making a beeline to the door leading to the hallway. He bolts out and slams that door, resting his back against it. 

 

 _Imagination,_ he says to himself. _It was your imagination. Josh's ramblings got into your head._ He looks at the lion statue. 

 

He could swear that the lion is staring straight at him. 

 

Shaking it off, Tyler makes his way towards the room to tell Josh the good news. There was nothing there. 

 

 

 

 

"The radio is broken."

 

Josh looks up from his book. "Huh?"

 

"The radio," Tyler says, collapsing onto the bed next to Josh. "It's broken."

 

"Oh," Josh says. "What... what now?"

 

Tyler shrugs. "I don't know."

 

"Yeah," Josh says. "At least we have the snowmobile."

 

Tyler nods, and Josh rolls over and kisses him. 

 

"I tell you we're cut off from the world, and this is your response?" Tyler says, grinning playfully as Josh pulls back. 

 

"Hey, no one can hear us scream," Josh responds as he pulls his shirt off. "Pants off, mister. I wanna be inside you tonight."

 

 

 

 

"You really didn't see anything?" Josh asks quietly as he sets his book down on the nightstand, fingers poised to turn off the lamp. "When you went down to that room, I mean."

 

"There wasn't anything," Tyler says shortly, ignoring the dead woman who appeared behind Josh the moment the man asked if Tyler had seen anything. He blinks, and she's gone. He's just stressed, and he'd been suggestible at the moment. Susceptible to hallucinations. "I think maybe you gave the bruises to yourself, J. That you had one of your episodes and were a bit too suggestible. Remember that time you had one while holding a fork and would've stabbed yourself if I hadn't grabbed your wrist?"

 

"No," Josh says, "I wasn't awake at the time."

 

Tyler rolls his eyes. "Very funny, wise guy," he says, trying to staple some amount of humor to his voice, but he's honestly just becoming exasperated. 

 

"That does sound likely," Josh admits. Some amount of conflict crosses his face, but it's gone before Tyler can really process it. "So you're sure there's no one else here?"

 

"I'm sure." _Stop nagging, dammit!_ "Go to bed, J."

 

Josh turns out the light. "I love you," he says as he rolls over to fall asleep.

 

"I love you," Tyler echoes, staring at the ceiling.

 

Josh's breaths gradually even out, and Tyler is left wide awake. Josh wants them to leave, he knows that. What would he say? Hello, Mark, my husband thought he saw a ghost, so we had to leave. And what then? They barely have any money. Where would they go? What would they do? Josh's degree in music theory wouldn't get him a job that pays much more than minimum wage. And Tyler's degree in literature couldn't get him a job teaching at any respectable school, not with his history with students.

 

He glances over to his husband sleeping beside him. Josh wants him to take him away, right? Take him away from the big, bad boogeyman. You see, Mark, Josh wanted me to take him away from all the ghosts, so I thought that the best thing I could do was

 

_kill him._

 

He doesn't know where that thought came from, but more follow, images of straddling Josh's hips and smothering his face with a pillow. Shoving him off the bed and seizing his neck, slamming his head against the wooden floor again, again, again. Shake, shuffle, and shimmy. Jig and jive, honey, tap and tango. Rock and roll, baby. Take your medicine. Every drop. Every single fucking drop. 

 

Josh suddenly lets out a low moan, and Tyler snaps back to himself, suddenly feeling ashamed. What was he thinking? He rests a hand on Josh's forehead, wondering what dreams are running through his husband's mind. 

 

Josh calms at his touch, and soon enough, he's sleeping peacefully.

 

Tyler lies back down, hands on his chest like a mummy. Strange, he thinks, that things seem to only be getting worse here. He thought it would be easier with fewer responsibilities.

 

He closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

 

When he awakens, he's standing in the bathroom of Room 21. 

 

 

 

 

They have thanksgiving dinner, turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes. Josh's bruises have faded, and the tension between Josh and Tyler seems to have left along with them. They spend their thanksgiving day watching movies tangled up in each other's limbs, and they spend their night making love. It's been a long time since Josh has felt this happy. 

 

The next morning, Josh wakes up at 4:37, wide awake. Not wanting to wake Tyler, he slips out of their bed and dresses. 

 

He wanders downstairs and slips on his winter jacket and boots. He's not really sure why he thinks it's a good idea to go outside, but he suddenly feels stir-crazy. 

 

Josh walks down to the maze, skidding a bit on the frozen snow. He walks in without hesitation. He _knows_ this maze. 

 

He wanders through the maze, twisting and turning through the walls. The stone lions that used to adorn the corners are buried beneath the snow, and he's not afraid of them. 

 

He's not afraid of them. 

 

He's not afraid of them. 

 

He's not afraid. 

 

He's not afraid, not afraid, not afraid.

 

_Are you afraid?_

 

Josh jumps, whirling around. One of the lion statues has pushed itself out of the snow, and its marble eyes are fixed on Josh. 

 

Josh stares at it for a moment before spinning around and dashing away. 

 

He can hear the lion behind him, stone body making loud _thumps_ on the ground. His heart is in his throat, along with his stomach, and _oh god oh god why did he decide to leave his bed?_

 

The lion _roars,_ and Josh nearly wets himself, oh god. He's so cold and his heart is beating out of his chest and there is a _lion_ chasing him. 

 

He tears out of the maze, lion still at his heels, and he's almost to the porch when something grabs his ankle. 

 

Josh is pulled back, snow going up his pants and jacket. There's a sharp pain in his left ankle, and Josh shrieks, too afraid to look back and see the lion's mouth around his boot. 

 

Josh rips his foot away, screeching at the pain, and propels himself onto the porch where he curls up and sobs. 

 

"Josh? Josh? Josh!" Tyler comes barreling out, only in his boxers, and crouches down beside Josh. "Oh god, J, what happened?"

 

Josh pushes himself up and looks down at his leg. The boot has been ripped open, and two long, bloody lines mark his skin. 

 

_the lion is real the lion is real the lion is REAL_

 

Josh clings to Tyler and cries.

 

 

 

 

They're both sitting before the fire that Tyler built, Josh slowly starting to warm up as he tells Tyler what happened. 

 

"And then it chased me," he finishes quietly, looking up at Tyler, who's standing up and walking over to the window. "It chased me all the way back to the hotel." He feels his lips trembling, and he grits his teeth together and doesn't doesn't doesn't cry. If he starts to cry, he won't be able to stop. And if he can't stop, Tyler will call t h e  n u t h o u s e and get them to take him away because he's b a t s h i t  c r a z y and he will n e v e r  e v e r  e v e r come back. 

 

_Don't cry, don't you fucking cry._

 

Tyler turns to him. "Come here," he says quietly. 

 

"I..." Josh doesn't like the look in Tyler's eyes. 

 

"I just want to show you something. Come here," he says, and slowly, Josh stands up and walk to his husband. "Good. Now, what do you see?"

 

Josh knows what Tyler is going to show him even before he looks out the window. 

 

"Only my tracks," Josh mumbles. "But– but Tyler..."

 

"What was that? I couldn't hear you!"

 

"You– you're cross-examining me, Ty, why?" Josh whimpers. 

 

"Shut up! Now, what were you going to say?"

 

"My– my leg..."

 

"You must've cut it on the ice. Or the porch."

 

"It– it doesn't look like it was either..." Josh buries his head in his hands. "What are you trying to do get me to do, Tyler? Confess to murder?"

 

"No, no," Tyler says quickly, pulling Josh into a hug before Josh can resist. "No, I'm just trying to prove something to you. It was a hallucination. One of your episodes."

 

_he thinks he thinks he thinks you're B A T S H I T  C R A Z Y_

 

There's a flash from Tyler's mind, and Josh is suddenly reeling back out of Tyler's arms. 

 

"You know I'm telling the truth!" Josh gasps. "You– you know I'm telling the truth! You know I'm telling the truth! You– you saw–"

 

Josh's head rocks back when Tyler slaps him across the face. 

 

For a moment they both stand completely still, breaths held, until Tyler quietly says, "I'm sorry, J. Are you all right?"

 

"You hit me," Josh whispers, touching his cheek.

 

"I– I know, I'm sorry, forgive–"

 

"You hit me!" Josh yelps, scrambling back. "You bastard!"

 

"Josh–"

 

Josh grabs his blanket and runs back to their room. He burrows in their bed, knowing Tyler won't follow him. 

 

 

 

 

 

"Hi, Tyler," Josh whispers as Tyler finally pads into their room. 

 

Tyler doesn't answer. 

 

"What, do you want me to apologize?" Josh asks. "For calling you a bastard? Fine, I'm sorry. But you shouldn't have hit me."

 

"I know," Tyler mumbles. "I'm sorry about that." He sighs, pulling off his shirt and changing into his pajamas. 

 

"You promised that you would never hurt me again."

 

Tyler looks up, furious, but all of his fury is drained out when he sees his husband sitting there, looking small. 

 

"I always thought I could keep my promises," he murmurs. 

 

Josh knee-walks on the bed over to him and wraps his arms around his shoulders. "It's over, it's okay," he whispers. "Somebody will come to check on us, right? And when that someone does, we'll tell them that we want to leave."

 

"Okay," Tyler agrees, really and truly meaning it for the first time. 

 

He wishes Josh would bring up what he saw again. Because Josh does, he'll admit to everything. The woman in Room 21, the lion statues that he _swears_ move. 

 

But all Josh says is, "Do you want me to make us some tea?"

 

And all Tyler replies is, "Yes, that sounds nice. Thank you."

 

 

 

 

Josh stands in the ballroom, the one where he found Tyler in not too long ago. 

 

Statues of gazelles, or maybe antelopes, stand tall at the entrance. He's not exactly sure why they're there  seeing as The Green Lion seems to stick to the lion theme, but he's not complaining. He half-expected them to trample him, maybe gore him when he first walked in, but the statues remained motionless. As statues should. 

 

There's a tower clock standing at the other side of the room. The hands are frozen in place at XII, though it's much earlier than that. There's a keyhole below the face, with a silver key hanging next to it. It's one of those things that he's not supposed to touch, Josh assumes. 

 

 _I'm not touching it, it's touching_ me. _Hasn't it? Hasn't it touched me? Played with me? Hasn't it?_

 

_Yes. It has. And it's been careful not to break you._

 

Suddenly feeling bold, Josh stalks forward and takes the key off of its hook. He places the key in the keyhole, and slowly, slowly turns it. 

 

He turns it to the right until he no longer can, and when he pulls the key back out the hands on the clock begin spinning faster than they should. They spin quickly, gradually going slower until they come to move at a normal place at IV. 

 

_y o u  f a n c y  m e  m a d_

 

Josh blinks at that. It wasn't his thought, but it doesn't mean anything to him. 

 

Brushing it aside, he reaches up and experimentally pushes the minute hand back. For a moment nothing happens, and then everything begins to run backwards.

 

_i  h e a r d  a l l  t h i n g s  i n  t h e  h e a v e n  a n d  i n  t h e  e a r t h  i  h e a r d  m a n y  t h i n g s  i n  h e l l_

 

_h o w  t h e n  a m  i  m a d?_

 

Josh spins around, nearly falling over in an attempt to look behind him. The ballroom is empty, of course, but it isn't. Time stands still here in The Green Lion. Time stands still. Men and women swing dancing in the 1950s. Men and women drinking and laughing in the 2050s. It's empty and it's completely full. 

 

The Green Lion is a clock. And Josh is a key. He wound the clock of a hotel up and now time is all at once.

 

Reluctantly, Josh turns back to the clock. The hands are rotating back and forth between XII and IV, except they aren't. There is no clock face, only a black hole. 

 

And Josh tumbles in. 

 

Falling, he's falling, he's falling down (the rabbit hole), he's...

 

...running, running, and the lion is chasing him. He's going to throw up, he's so _scared_ and the lion is chasing him, the lion is _chasing_ him but it's not a lion, it's NOT A LION IT'S...

 

...cold, so cold, Josh is so, so cold. He can't feel his feet or his hands or his cheeks and he's running blindly, running blindly and he is so cold and the lion is SCREAMING...

 

**_...medicine, you little fuck! Take it! Like a man! Take it..._ **

 

...Tyler, where is Tyler? Josh doesn't know. He doesn't know, doesn't know doesn't know doesn't know he's just...

 

_...a WHORE, oh, you FUCKING WHORE! I'll find you, I swear to GOD! I'll FIND you now run, RUN..._

 

**_...like a MAN! Take it like a MAN, you little SHIT, you fucking FAGGOT, you miserable..._ **

 

...god, oh god, where is he? Where _is_ he? Josh doesn't know, he's confused and lost and scared and cold and the lion is coming for him, coming, running, running, running...

 

_...away, get away, get AWAY FROM ME IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU GET..._

 

...gone, Josh is gone from himself, he's running blindly and his heart is in his stomach and his stomach is in his throat and...

 

...Will is behind him, running, running too, but he's falling, he's falling away and he can't come back anymore, the hotel won't let him, get Debby get Debby get Debby get DEBBY!

 

"Will!" Josh shrieks. 

 

And suddenly he can see the clock again, he can see the clock and REDRUM is scrawled on its face. He's in the bathroom, in the bathroom where he fell into the mirror, and it's reflecting the clock. 

 

REDRUM

MURDER

 

And Josh is falling, he's falling, he's FALLING INTO THE CLOCK HE'S FALLING INTO REDRUM HE'S FALLING INTO MURDER HE'S

 

falling onto the cold floor of the ballroom.

 

_l o u d e r  l o u d E R  L O U D E R_

 

_I T  I S  T H E  B E A T I N G  O F  H I S  H I D E O U S  H E A R T!_

 

Josh curls up in squeezes his eyes shut. Oh, he's afraid, so afraid, so _scared._

 

_!!DEBBY!!_

 

He screams it as loudly as he can, body almost trembling with the force.

 

_!!!!!DEBBY COME PEASE OH GOD DEBBY COME QUICK PLEASE COME PLEASE DEBBY!!!!!_

 

The clock ticks. 


	4. Part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost the end, folks! I recognize that it's been a while, so I hope none of you have lost interest.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> domestic abuse, strangulation, drinking, homophobic and misogynistic slurs. there's also a very brief mention of rape.

Debby's humming to herself as she's driving her secondhand jeep down the highway when she begins to hear bells. 

 

She barely has any time to prepare herself before the bells are ringing loudly, furiously, and she sees her own eyes widening in the rear view mirror before 

 

_!!!!!DEBBY COME PEASE OH GOD DEBBY COME QUICK PLEASE COME PLEASE DEBBY!!!!!_

 

Feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise, Debby jerks the car off the highway, ignoring the honks of the other cars. 

 

_!!!!DEBBY DEBBY PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COME QUICK PLEASE COME COME PLEASE!!!!_

 

The thought keeps repeating over and over again, but it's slowly beginning to fade. She takes a deep breath, slowly calming down. 

 

Debby's head aches, not unlike the time with Josh in the car. God, but that wasn't just playing. That was panic at its purest. 

 

What was she thinking, leaving Josh all alone up there when his Eyes Glow that brightly? 

 

Debby rubs her arms. Even though the LA weather is as warm as ever, goosebumps decorate her skin. She had told Josh to call her if he needs any help, and here he is, calling for help.

 

She steps on the gas and peels away, heading for her home as quickly as she can. 

 

 

 

 

Debby steps into the rather shitty restaurant she in works as a cook and heads over to talk to her manager. 

 

"I need a week off," she says without preamble.

 

Her manager looks up at her. "And why is that, Miss Ryan?"

 

She shakes off the way he's looking at her and says, "It's my brother. He got into an accident."

 

"Hmm." Her manager leans forward, grinning almost lecherously. "What kind of accident?"

 

"Car accident. He was hit by a drunk driver," Debby says, resisting the urge to pull her shorts down a little further to cover her legs more.

 

"Shame," he says, not seeming to be processing anything she's saying. He stands up, making his way around his desk and walks towards her. "How long will you need, again?"

 

He's looking down her shirt, and that's when she snaps.

 

"Fuck you!" Debby yelps, pushing her manager– Jeff– away from her. He's startled enough that despite her height, she manages to shove him into his desk. He tumbles over with a shriek.

 

"What the fuck?!" Jeff yells, standing up.

 

"I've put up with you long enough," she growls. "Fuck it. I'm out of here."

 

She ignores her ex-manager's shouting as she stalks away, refusing to think about how she's now jobless. She manages to get to her car and from her car to her apartment door before collapsing, the sound of bells too loud for her to even think.

 

_!!!DEBBY OH GOD COME QUICK PLEASE WE'RE IN BAD TROUBLE DEBBY PLEASE!!!_

 

Debby grits her teeth and unlocks the door, tumbling inside and kicking her door shut. She flashes back to the leggings Josh was wearing the day they met, black with skull print. _Skull_ print.

 

No, no, this is not the Eyes, this is being a human with human thoughts and human fears. A memory is a memory, not a warning, not a premonition of... well, of...

 

_just fucking say it_

 

of death.

 

Death? No, god no. Her life is good. Not terrific, not fantastic, but not bad at all. She has enough money to live comfortably, enough references to get a new job easily. She has a loving family and faithful friends. She's finally comfortable in her sexuality. Does she want to risk everything for two men she doesn't even know?

 

No, no, she knows one of them. Knows him intimately, knows him in a way only made possible by sharing a mind. They both have searchlights on each other, both able to seek out the other at a moment's notice.

 

_No, he's the only one with a searchlight. You've a fucking flashlight._

 

Sometimes those lights, flashlights and searchlights and all, can seem like pretty things. You never lose money in a gamble, and you can tell when someone's lying to you. But those were the nice things, the things that glossed over the horrors of the Eyes. Because past the amenities that come with the gift, there is only sadness and grief and suffering and pain. Everyone's hidden, forgotten, painful emotions and memories are always there for you, out in the open and always ready to take you to a cold, dark, ugly place. And now Josh is in that place. And Debby will go to him. She will help him the best she can, because if she doesn't, Josh will die inside her head. 

 

But because she is human, she cannot help but hate that she's the only one left for them.

 

 

 

s _he was coming to get her._

 

Debby's packing her duffle frantically, stuffing whatever item of clothing she grab into her bag, when the unwanted memory comes to her. She freezes, the blood in her veins going cold as it always does when she remembers this. 

 

The maid, she'd been hysterical. She'd babbled about what she'd seen to the other maids, and worse, to the guests. Wentz had fired her immediately, as he always did when he was faced with a situation he didn't know how to handle. She'd come to Debby afterwards, sobbing. Not because she'd been fired, no, but because of what she'd seen. She'd gone into Room 21 to change the towels when she'd happened upon a dead woman lying in the bathtub. Impossible, of course, because the body in Room 21 had been taken away months before and was most likely lying six feet under. But the maid, she'd sworn that she'd seen the body floating there in the bathtub in Room 21. She and Debby hadn't been friends. Before then, they'd never even spoken. Why then, had she come to her?

 

Glowing Eyes can always find each other, Debby thinks. The maid, she'd barely had the Eyes. More of a glimmer. Glimmering Eyes. Still, it was enough to see the long gone woman in Room 21. 

 

At the maid's insistence, Debby had gone up to Room 21 to prove that there was, in fact, a body there, and that she wasn't crazy like Wentz and everyone else had told her. 

 

Debby had stolen the card key and slipped into Room 21 carefully. She'd crept to the bathroom, and before she could pull the shower curtain back, a beautiful woman stepped out. Unable to do anything but stare, Debby watched as the woman, naked as the day she was born, carefully place her hands on Debby's neck and pull her close. Debby closed her eyes and kissed the women, their warm bodies pressed together. It had been blissful, right until the moment Debby opened her eyes and saw yellowed, bulging eyes staring back.

 

That wasn't the first time something akin to that incident had happened to Debby. She'd been cleaning the ballroom by herself when the entire room to be simultaneously filled of people from all years, all decades, all centuries while also being filled by absolutely no one at all. _W h y  w i l l  y o u  s a y  I  a m  m a d?_ Then there were the stone lions, always seeming to follow Debby around when she wasn't looking. The maze, the maze that's alive and more than willing to trap people in. 

 

Debby suspected– no, she was positive that the guests could see those things, too. People had panic attacks in the ballroom, clawing their way out through nonexistent (yet somehow completely real) partygoers. Children fell and convulsed in the playground. Once, a man was in the middle of a basketball game when he suddenly went into hysterics, screaming in bloody murder. 

 

No, Debby was only scared to see the dead woman staring back at her, not terrified. It only slipped into terror when the woman's lips pulled into a grotesque caricature of a smile, revealing yellowed teeth. Debby only became truly terrified when the woman cocked her head and advanced, and Debby scrambled back because oh god

 

s _he was coming to get her._

 

She'd ran, slamming all the doors behind her, and she had not felt safe in the Green Lion again. And now Josh, screaming, shrieking, sobbing for help. 

 

Debby stuffs her winter jacket into her bag and zips it shut before grabbing her keys. 

 

_!!!PLEASE COME OH GOD WE'RE IN BAD BAD TROUBLE COME QUICK PLEASE!!!_

 

 

 

Around the time Debby's being fired by Jeff the Douchebag, Tyler finds Josh sitting in the hallway, bouncing a rubber ball against the wall and catching it over and over again. 

 

"Exit: light, enter: night," Josh sings listlessly. "Take my hand; we're off to never never land."

 

Tyler sits down next to him, heart jumping in his chest when he sees Josh's swollen lip and blood on his chin. 

 

"Hush, little baby, don't say a word," Josh sings, "and never mind that voice you heard."

 

"Josh," Tyler begins quietly. "What–"

 

"It's just the beasts under your bed–"

 

"–happened–"

 

"In your closet–"

 

"–to your lip?"

 

"In your head." Josh blinks, as though noticing Tyler for the first time. "Oh. I fell down in the ballroom."

 

"Is– is that what happened?"

 

"I called Will in the ballroom," Josh says, focused on the ball as it bounces against the wall before back to him. "I called him, and then time was all it once and I fell over. I must've hit my head. It hurt, but it don't no more."

 

"Is that what _really_ happened?"

 

"No one hurt me," Josh says quietly. "Not today."

 

Tyler watches the ball travel from hand to wall, hand to wall. His husband had read his mind. 

 

"What did Will tell you, Josh?" he asks quietly. 

 

"It don't matter anymore," Josh says, voice empty and indifferent.

 

"Josh..." Tyler reaches for Josh's shoulders, but Josh moves and he ends up grabbing Josh's throat by accident. 

 

God, he's ruining this man. He's _wrecking_ him, even if by accident. And it's not just him, no, it's the fucking hotel, too. Ghosts. The place is fucking _festering_ with ghosts. _Oh god, Josh, I'm so sorry._

 

"It don't matter anymore," Josh repeats. "Will can't come no more. He got beat, and he can't come no more."

 

"Why can't he come anymore?"

 

"They got 'im."

 

"Who got him?"

 

"The hotel people," Josh says. He looks up at Tyler, and he doesn't look indifferent at all. His eyes are deep, dark and scared. "The hotel people got to 'im. They got to 'im. There're all kinds of 'em, and they all got to 'im."

 

"You can see them?"

 

"I don't wanna." Josh's voice is petulant, and the ball goes back and forth, back and forth. "I don't wanna, but I do. And I hear 'em too. All over. I thought it was my fault, 'cause of the way I am. The white rabbit. The silver key. And I wound the hotel up. Wound it all up."

 

Tyler pulls Josh close and tucks his husband's head under his chin. The ball falls to the ground and bounces, but Josh doesn't catch it. 

 

"Don't upset yourself, J," Tyler murmurs. 

 

"But it en't just me," Josh mumbles. "It's you, too. It wants both of us. All of us. It wants me, it want me the most, I'm the key, but it wants you too."

 

"The snowmobile–"

 

"You destroyed the snowmobile," Josh tells him quietly. "You don't remember it, no, 'cause the hotel don't want you to."

 

Tyler blinks. "Josh–"

 

"It don't matter if you believe me or not."

 

"I..." Tyler pauses. "I believe you, Josh. What– what's gonna happen to us? Am I gonna hurt you?"

 

"The hotel'll make you," Josh says quietly. "I been callin' for Debby, but she en't replying. I can't yell much longer. The hotel'll make me stop. And it's hard, awful hard. Makes me tired, tired, tired. And I can't tell if she's hearin' me or if she en't. She en't powerful, not like I am." He falls silent. "I wanna go to bed now."

 

"Okay," Tyler says, helping him stand. "Okay, bud. Want me to walk you there?"

 

Josh shakes his head. "No, no, I wanna be on my own."

 

"Okay," Tyler says softly, watching Josh walk off. "Okay."

 

 

 

The kitchen is very cold. Josh walks barefoot to the knife rack and carefully takes out one of the carving knives. It's the longest and the sharpest, and he wraps it in a towel before heading back to his bed on tiptoe.

 

 

 

"I tuck you in, warm within, keep you free from sin, 'til the Sandman he comes," Josh sings to himself as he walks through the hallways the next morning. "Sleep with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight."

 

_Lizzy Borden took an axe..._

 

Josh stops and listens. 

 

_...gave her father forty whacks..._

 

He might've been able to pass those off as her own thoughts. But they're not his thoughts, no, too soft, too shy. 

 

_Oh, little boy, stay here. Stay here always. You'll like it here, oh yes, you'll liiiiike it._

 

His eyes are open now, and he's listening, listening as the hotel breathes. The ghosts gather in the ballroom where time is all at once, and he's the key. The little silver key. 

 

**_Take your medicine, you little fuck! Take it! Fucking_ take _it like a man!_**

 

_G E T  O U T  O F  H I S  T H O U G H T S  Y O U  L I T T L E  S H I T!_

 

Josh jerks, losing his train of thought. He goes back to singing. "Something's wrong, shut the light, heavy thoughts tonight," he turns the corner, "and they aren't of Snow White."

 

There is a man wearing a wolf suit on his hands and knees.

 

"Dreams of war, dreams of liars, dreams of dragon's fire," Josh sings, voice breaking off, "and of things that will bite."

 

"What a lovely little voice you have," the man rumbles, grinning from ear to ear. Through the mask, Josh can see that his teeth are bloodstained. 

 

He begins to growl, not like a man, but like a beast. He begins to crawl forward, growls turning into barks. 

 

"Let me through," Josh says. 

 

"I'm gonna eat you," the wolf-man says. "I'm gonna eat you, little boy." He pulls himself onto his feet and grabs Josh's shirt. "I'm gonna eat you all up." His breath smells of bourbon, and Josh tries not to gag. 

 

"I want to go by," Josh tells him. "Let me through."

 

The wolf-man laughs, high and hoarse, but it quickly tapers off into a savage snarl. "Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin," he says as he shoves Josh against the wall. Josh gasps as the sudden movement forces the air from his lungs. "I'm gonna eat you _allllll_ up, little boy," the wolf-man says, still grinning. "And I think I'm gonna start with your nice, plump cock." He bares his bloodstained teeth, beginning to laugh hysterically.

 

Josh, gaining his air back, aims a kick at the wolf-man that connects to his groin. The wolf-man falls back, still laughing as Josh runs back through the hallway he came from, checking over his shoulder.

 

"Run, little piggy, run!" the wolf-man cries. He drops back down to his hands and knees. 

 

Josh pauses in the hallway, shaking. 

 

"Get it up!" the wolf-man howls. "Get it _up,_ Ge _rard,_ you bastard! I don't care how much you own! I know what you like when you're at _home!"_ He lets out a series of barks that turn to coughs. "Get it _up!"_ he shouts again. "Get it up, and I'll huff and I'll puff until Gerard Way's _allllll_ blown down!" He lets out a howl that carries through the hallway as Josh begins to run again, as he begins to run far, far away. 

 

He slams his bedroom door shut and burrows under the covers, trying not to cry. The hotel is in charge now. He and Tyler, they're both gonna die. They're gonna end up like the lady in the bathtub, like the people in the ballroom, like the wolf-man, like the rest of whatever the hell haunts this place, and they're all gonna be here next winter, ready to welcome the next caretaker. 

 

 _!!!OH GOD DEBBY PLEASE COME DEBBY COME QUICK OH PLEA_ – _!!!_

 

"No!" Josh cries out loud. The hotel cut him off. He can't help it as he begins to sob, loud and harsh into his pillow. 

 

**_You stop crying! You fucking STOP that! Shut up and take your medicine like a man! I'll make you stop, I'll make you take it because I am your fucking HUSBAND!_ **

 

"No!" Josh shrieks again. "No, Tyler, no!"

 

The hotel cut him off because Debby might spoil the fun. 

 

Josh is all alone. 

 

 

 

"I'd like to talk to whoever's in charge," Debby says again. 

 

"I am in charge, miss," the ranger replies. 

 

"Then radio the Green Lion for me."

 

"I did."

 

"And?"

 

"Nothing."

 

"Try again."

 

"I did."

 

"Try _again."_

 

There's a pause. 

 

"Still nothing."

 

Debby lets out a frustrated groan. "Are you sure?"

 

"Positive. They must've switched the radio off."

 

"Or the hotel did."

 

"Sorry?"

 

"Nothing," Debby says with a sigh. "Thank you for your time."

 

"You shouldn't be on your phone," the woman sitting next to Debby says as Debby hangs up and pockets her phone. 

 

"It was important," Debby mutters. 

 

"More important than the safety of the people in this aircraft?" the woman is grinning at her, showing Debby that she's only mock-indignant. 

 

Debby manages a smile. "You'd be surprised."

 

"Jenna Black," the woman says, holding out her hand. 

 

"Oh, um," Debby shakes it. "Debby Ryan. Sorry, I'm usually more put together; I'm just really stressed."

 

"I understand that," Jenna says. 

 

"I really hope you don't," Debby says to herself.

 

Jenna furrows her eyebrows. "What?"

 

"Nothing," Debby says, and she changes the subject.

 

A flight attendant is asking everyone to return to their seats when Debby begins to hear the bells again. She holds a finger up to Jenna, silently asking for a moment before gritting her teeth and gripping the armrests tightly.

 

 _!!!OH GOD DEBBY PLEASE COME DEBBY COME QUICK OH PLEA_ – _!!!_

 

And then it's gone. Cut clean. It didn't gradually fade, not like the other ones did. Her fingers are still gripping the armrests, and her knuckles are stark white. God, if anyone hurt Josh...

 

"Not great with turbulence?"

 

Debby's eyes open and she looks over at Jenna, who's smiling at her sympathetically. She's gripping both her and Debby's respective sodas, which had both had begun to bounce as the plane flew through the turbulence. 

 

"Yeah, uh," Debby says, adjusting her ponytail, "no. Not great." She takes her soda back from Jenna. "Thanks."

 

Debby watches the bubbles in her coke fizz to the top and wonders if Josh is okay. She wonders about the other man, Tyler, too. She hopes they're taking care of each other. 

 

They'll need to.

 

 

 

Tyler spins around on one of the swiveling chairs seated by the bar. The party in the ballroom is in full swing, and Tyler's enjoying himself as he listens to the music. 

 

"Gin and tonic," Tyler tells Spencer. 

 

Spencer tells Tyler that it'll just be a moment.

 

As Spencer fixes the drink, Tyler takes a look around the ballroom. There are people in all sorts of outfits– a costume party, Tyler decides. There are women in old-fashioned gowns and men in tuxedos, mainly, but Tyler can see a man in a dog– no, wolf costume. He's on his hands and knees and crying a human imitation of a howl.

 

Spencer sets the drink down in front of Tyler. As Tyler pulls out his wallet, Spencer tells him that his money is no good here. 

 

Tyler furrows his eyebrows. "Sorry?"

 

Spencer says that it's the manager's orders. 

 

"Manager?" Tyler repeats. 

 

Spencer nods, affirming that it was the manager. As Tyler sniffs his drink (Bombay Sapphire, good man), Spencer tells him that the manager would like to speak to Josh later. 

 

Tyler frowns, pausing his movements. "Josh? What does he have to do with anything?"

 

As Spencer explains that Josh is a fine, fine man, Tyler considers his drink for the first time. What's he doing? He'd sworn off drinking. 

 

"The manager... wants Josh?" Tyler asks, setting his drink down. 

 

Spencer nods.

 

 _But isn't it me they want? Not Josh. No, no, not Josh._ Did Josh say something about this? He's not sure. Everything's blurring together. 

 

"Where's the manager?" Tyler asks carefully. 

 

Spencer smiles. 

 

"What does he want with Josh?" he tries. 

 

Spencer's face seems to morph: features sharpening, eyes darkening. He tells Tyler to drink his drink. Dimly, Tyler registers that the clock is striking four. 

 

_y o u  f a n c y  m e  m a d_

 

Tyler lifts his glass to his lips when he hears _Josh's bone cracking the bicycle snapping the beer bottles smashing Josh screaming Josh pleading Josh crying._

 

The conversation in the ballroom has stopped. 

 

Tyler looks over his shoulder to see that everyone in the ballroom is staring at him. One Tyler recognizes as Gerard Way, dark hair falling into his eyes. Another Tyler guesses to be the dead lady from Room 21. Her form is flickering between beautiful woman and rotting corpse. 

 

"Drink your drink," Spencer says quietly. 

 

"Drink your drink," the entire room choruses. 

 

Tyler drinks his drink. 

 

After a couple of sips, Tyler looks up at Spencer and says, "I want to see the manager. Josh... I don't think the manager understands that Josh isn't a part of this."

 

"Drink your drink," Spencer says. 

 

Tyler picks up his gin and stares into the liquor. 

 

"Let it roll, baby, roll," the woman from Room 21 begins to sing in flat, toneless voice. "Let it roll, baby, roll."

 

"Ashen lady, ashen lady," Spencer sings, drawing Tyler's attention back to him. "Give up your vows, give up your vows."

 

"Save our city, save our city," the lady from Room 21 croons, "right now."

 

"Well, I woke up this morning and I got myself a beer," Gerard Way joins in, eyes flashing at Tyler. He smirks down at the man in the wolf costume, who's tapping his paw– hand– to the beat, and kicks him. "Well, I woke up this morning and I got myself a beer." He chuckles as the man in the wolf costume yelps. "The future's uncertain," he sings, smirking at Tyler, "and the end is always near."

 

"Let it roll, baby, roll. Let it _rooooooooll,_ hey, all night long."

 

Tyler downs the rest of his drink.

 

"Another," he says, setting the glass down. 

 

 

 

He's dancing with a beautiful woman. 

 

Tyler doesn't know how long he's been here, but he doesn't care. Time no long matters. It was lost somewhere in the dancing, in the bumping, twisting, grinding.

 

_this is a line / and this line is mine / you will kindly find my feet and my spine are perfectly aligned / you will also find that on either side there's a plus and a minus sign_

 

What's that? A song he heard? A poem he read?

 

Did he write it?

 

_this is a line / and this line is mine / and now that I've assigned what one might find on either side / you will kindly find that my feet and my spine are on the plus sign_

 

Tyler giggles. He can't remember. 

 

"What's so funny, love?"

 

He's dancing with a beautiful woman. She's blonde and curvy, with soft, soft skin and slender hands, and Tyler is very hard. She obviously knows it, since she's grinding up against him, but she doesn't seem to mind. 

 

"Nothing's funny," he chuckles. "Nothing."

 

She smiles, resting her forehead against Tyler's. "I like you."

 

"I like you too."

 

"We can go to my room," she says. "I'm supposed to be here with Gerard, but..." She tosses a look over to the bar. "He's a bit occupied."

 

Tyler follows her gaze to where Gerard Way is standing, surrounded by other partygoers. The man in the wolf costume is at his feet. 

 

"Sit, boy!" Way cries, and Tyler watches as the man in the wolf costume sits, yapping. The partygoers roar with laughter.

 

"Watch this," Way says, grabbing a bottle of champagne. He uncorks it and turns it over, letting the foam pour out. The man in the wolf costume eagerly laps at it. "Who's a little doggy?" Way shouts. The man in the wolf costume yips, still going at the champagne. He twists his head, and Tyler gets a look at his eyes; they're bloodshot and wild. 

 

"Isn't Gerard a scream?" the woman asks. "He's AC/DC, you know," she says conspiratorially. "Poor Frankie over there's only DC. They spent a weekend together in Bermuda or something, and Frank's followed him everywhere ever since, wagging his little tail."

 

She lets out a high-pitched giggle. 

 

"But Gerard never goes back for seconds, no sir," she tells him. "But Frank was just so desperate. So Gerard told him that if he put on that costume, if he acted like a doggy the entire time tonight, he might consider it." She pauses. "Excuse me, I think I just saw my friend..."

 

Tyler watches as the woman walks off. He wonders when they met. 

 

He shakes his head, clearing it as he struggles through the throng of people. He's starting to feel claustrophobic. In his peripheral vision he can see Way urging Frank to somersault for some bar peanuts. Frank tries, but he's obviously exhausted, and he ends up just flopping on his side. 

 

"Aw, try again, doggy, try again," Way sneers. 

 

Distracted, Tyler ends up crashing into one of the partygoers. The man's glass of wine ends up spilling over Tyler's shirt. 

 

"Sorry," he mumbles. He's feeling faintly ill. 

 

"No, no, sir, I'm very sorry," the man says, trying fruitlessly to wipe off the dark purple stains on Tyler's white shirt. "Let me take you to the washroom; I'll help you clean up."

 

"No, there's no need," Tyler tries to say, but the man is pulling him off. 

 

He can hear Frank howling the tune of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame".

 

"Very sorry, sir," the man says as he grabs some paper towels after they've stepped into the bathroom. 

 

"It's okay," Tyler says quietly. "What's– what's your name?"

 

"Dallon Weekes, sir," the man says. 

 

Tyler blinks, suddenly feeling much more sober. "Weekes?"

 

"Yes, sir."

 

Tyler is opening and closing his mouth. "Were– weren't you the caretaker once?" he asks stupidly. "You killed your wife and children."

 

"My wife is in the kitchen, and my children are in their room," Weekes says evenly. 

 

"But..."

 

 _"You're_ the caretaker, sir," Weekes says. "We both are. We've always been."

 

Tyler can only stare at him. 

 

Weekes's smile curves into something less of one. "Your husband's been keeping secrets from you, it seems," he says, voice sounding almost taunting. "You oughta talk to him. He knows much more than he lets on. Rather naughty of him, don't you think?"

 

"Yes," Tyler says. 

 

"I'd say he needs to be fixed," Weekes says, throwing the paper towels into the waste bin. "A talking-to, and maybe more. My kids, they didn't like this place. One tried to burn it down. I found her, and I fixed her. I fixed both of them. And when my wife tried to stop me, I fixed her too. I fixed them all very well." Weekes looks at Tyler carefully. "Do you understand my meaning, sir?"

 

"Yes," Tyler says. 

 

"Husbands have a certain responsibilities," Weekes says. "My family did not love the Green Lion, so I fixed them. Your partner does not love the Green Lion, so you must fix him."

 

"Yes," Tyler says.

 

"I believe our manager could fix your husband very well," Weekes says. 

 

Tyler opens his mouth to agree, but he pauses. "But– but doesn't the hotel... doesn't the hotel just want me?"

 

Weekes smiles. "Your husband has certain... qualities that the manager needs," he says. "But your husband is using those qualities against us. He's trying to bring an outside force in. Did you know that?"

 

"An outside force?" Tyler asks. His brain is swimming, swimming, swimming. 

 

Weekes nods. "A _woman,"_ he says. "A _dyke_ bitch, no less."

 

Tyler frowns. "Ryan?"

 

"I believe that's her name, yes."

 

"Look, I–" Tyler tries to clear his head. "Josh can do what he wants, okay? It's me the hotel wants."

 

"You cannot let your husband control your life that way," Weekes tells him sternly. 

 

"No, he's not..." But is he? _Tyler, I'm scared. Tyler, I wanna go home. Tyler, Tyler, Tyler._

 

"Josh has always been in your way," Weekes says. "You need to fix him."

 

"I'll take care of it."

 

"You need to fix him good."

 

"I _said,_ I'll take _care_ of it!" Tyler growls.

 

Weekes smiles. 

 

Tyler huffs and heads out of the bathroom, back into the party. He grabs one of the flutes of champagne off a waiter's tray, closes his eyes, and downs it. 

 

When he opens his eyes, the entire ballroom is empty.

 

 

 

_"Please return to your seats; we are now preparing for landing."_

 

"Thank you," Debby breathes out. 

 

Jenna looks up from her book and smiles at her. She smiles a lot. Debby wonders if she always smiles this much, or if it's just for Debby. After a moment's hesitation, Debby gently combs through Jenna's emotions and base thoughts. 

 

_happy-kind-caring-worried oh she looks so sad I hope she's okay-loving-gentle-attracted-nervous do you think she'll turn me down-_

 

Debby smiles back at her, and she can see Jenna relaxes minutely. 

 

"What are you reading?" she asks Jenna. 

 

"Oh, it's a horror novel," Jenna says. "Some people in a bad situation." She flashes Debby a grin. "Makes me feel happier about my life, you know?"

 

Debby lets out a laugh. "I usually stay away from books like those," she admits. "But I never read with that kind of attitude. Maybe I should try it."

 

"It can be surprisingly relaxing," Jenna says earnestly, and Debby lets herself fall into easy conversation. 

 

She only just notices that they've landed when Jenna takes out her phone and hesitantly holds it out. 

 

"We've landed, so we can use them now," she says, voice considerably softer than earlier. "Can I, um, have your number?"

 

"Wha– sure," Debby says, recovering as quickly as she can. It's not often that beautiful women ask her for her number. She quickly creates a contact for herself and hands her phone back to Jenna.

 

"Do you want to get a drink with me?" Jenna asks shyly. 

 

"I do have somewhere to be," Debby admits, grabbing her bag, "but I'd really like to. I'll call you as soon as I can, okay?"

 

"Okay," Jenna says, and on impulse, Debby carefully kisses her cheek. 

 

"I'll call you," she says before speed-walking out of the plane, scarcely believing her own actions. 

 

Well, she'll have to survive the Green Lion now. She can't leave Jenna waiting.

 

 

 

Josh is in the kitchen, making himself (lunch? breakfast? dinner?) a meal. He hasn't seen Tyler in two days, and he's wondering if he should make Tyler something, too. 

 

He thinks he hears a noise coming from behind him, and he automatically reaches for the long, kitchen knife he carries with him now. There's nothing. 

 

Josh has seen the end of his marriage many times; not with his Eyes, but with his heart. In divorce, maybe, Josh handing the papers to Tyler. In death, Tyler's death, a car accident after too many drinks. In another man rushing in, even, sweeping Josh away from every little worry in his life, giving Josh moments that make even Josh's happiest memories seem bleak. 

 

But Josh never thought it would end with him creeping around with a knife, waiting for his husband to jump out of the shadows. 

 

 _Not my husband,_ he reminds himself. _The hotel. Not Tyler._

 

Josh opens a can of soup and pours it into a bowl, adding water and putting it in the microwave. He likes the kitchen. Even though he can no longer contact Debby, he feels close to her here. It makes him feel hopeful. Maybe she's trekking through the snow right now. Maybe she'll burst into the kitchen any second, grabbing them and taking them both away, away from this place, fixing all their problems. Debby ex machina. 

 

He stares expectantly at the door. No Debby. 

 

Sighing, Josh takes his bowl of soup out of the microwave and eats it standing there. He's hunched over the counter, spoon in one hand and phone in the other, when he feels the distinct feeling the someone is watching him, someone is standing right behind him, someone is reaching out to grab his neck–

 

Josh whirls around, dropping the spoon and grabbing the knife. 

 

Nothing. 

 

_Get a grip, boy!_

 

Josh takes a deep breath and tries to look at this realistically. Even if Debby never shows, it's unlikely that they'll go the rest of the season undisturbed. A ranger will probably show at some point, wondering why they haven't radioed in a while.

 

And besides. Even if Tyler seems to pretend otherwise, Josh is still a man. A man, a husband with responsibilities. And Tyler is his responsibility. He has to protect Tyler, protect both of them from Tyler. 

 

 But it'll be weeks before a ranger shows up. And it's probably going to be at least a couple of days before Debby shows up, right? To get her affairs and stuff in order; it's not like she'd just drop everything for a man she doesn't even know.

 

(But she does. She does know him.)

 

And what if things get ugly, _really_ ugly? Josh has lost too much weight to have a real advantage on Tyler, who not only has a couple of inches on Josh, but also has all the power of a hotel with decades of secrets. And while Josh would hesitate in a fight against his husband, Tyler would not. Because he's not really Tyler anymore. 

 

_So what are you going to do? Lock yourself in some room? Tyler has the master key; it doesn't matter where you hide. And even so, he can kick down doors. You've seen him do it before._

 

Josh sets down the soup, and without bothering to clean up, he exits the kitchen, gripping the knife tightly. The moment he steps out of the kitchen is the moment he smells gin. (He can smell booze a mile away; years with Tyler have taught him _something.)_ Josh feels his insides twist. Where did Tyler find alcohol? Something stashed away somewhere? Did he smuggle it in somehow?

 

"Tyler?" he asks hesitantly. 

 

There's no reply, and cautiously, Josh steps out to investigate further. 

 

"Tyler?" he calls, feeling slightly braver. 

 

There's a low groan, and Josh instinctively grips his knife a bit more tightly. He peers around the corner. 

 

There's Tyler sprawled out on the floor, completely knocked out. His right hand is splayed out, fist curled into a position indicative of a bottle in his hand, but there's not a bottle in sight. Josh can vaguely smell beer. 

 

 _Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy._ Hallelujah, amen. 

 

Tyler stirs, rolling onto his back and blinking up at Josh. 

 

"J?" he asks, voice hoarse. 

 

"Yeah," Josh replies, stuffing the knife into his jacket pocket. "Do you think you can make it upstairs? If you–"

 

Tyler's hand closes around Josh's ankle. 

 

"Ha! I gotcha!" Tyler says, lips curling into a grin that seems more maniacal than anything. The smell of Bombay Sapphire gin (Tyler's favorite) hits Josh like a steam engine, and he suddenly feels very nauseous. It's a fear, an old one, much worse than anything the Green Lion has ever conjured up. It's just Josh and Tyler and good ol' fashioned drunken lunacy.

 

"Tyler, let me help–"

 

"Oh, yeah. You want to help." Tyler's vise-like grip on Josh's ankle seems inhumanly strong, and Josh fights down a wince. "You want to help me, dontcha, J. But now," Tyler yanks Josh's ankle forward, causing Josh to fall down unceremoniously, "I gotcha."

 

Josh, trying to pick himself back up again, says, "Tyler, let me go. You're hurting me."

 

"I'll hurt much more than your ankle," Tyler snarls, pushing himself up off the floor. He's still gripping Josh's ankle, and the momentum of his sudden movement causes Josh's to fall onto his back. "I'll hurt so much more than your ankle, you ungrateful, whiny _bitch."_

 

The words, coupled with Tyler's wholly _mean_ expression, shocks Josh into paralysis.

 

"You never loved me," Tyler says, and he sounds more like a hurt child than anything. "You never loved me, did you?" He doesn't wait for Josh to answer; he just tugs on Josh's ankle, causing Josh's body to jerk against the cold, hard floor. "No, no, you never did. You don't _really_ hate this place. You just want us to leave 'cause you know it'll be the end of my career. The end of _me._ You're so fuckin' vin- vindic- vindictive, you know that? You ever think about my respons'bil'ties? I don't think you ever do. You're just like my mother, you _bitch!"_

 

"Tyler," Josh says, trying to keep the tremble from his voice. He's a _man,_ for god's sake, and men don't cry. Men don't fucking cry. "Tyler, you're drunk. You're drunk, and you're not thinking straight.

 

"Shut up!" Tyler cries, stepping back, dragging Josh's body along with him. "Shut up, shut up shut _up,_ you bitch. I'm gonna fix you. I'm gonna fix you good."

 

Josh just stares as Tyler drags him (somewhere, wherever) with growing horror; Tyler is going to _kill_ him. Tyler is going to kill him and then kill himself, oh god. That's what the hotel wants. They'll both die here and they'll stay here forever and ever and ever...

 

Then Josh remembers his knife.

 

He plunges his hand into his pocket, closing his hand around the handle before sitting up. Tyler notices him, and he's starting to let go when Josh stabs, catching the skin between Tyler's index finger and thumb.

 

Tyler lets out a howl. "You _bitch!"_

 

Josh is scrambling up, but Tyler launches himself at him and tackles him to the ground. Josh's knife slips from his hand clatters on the marble floor. Tyler punches Josh square in the face, slamming Josh's head against the ground. His vision goes black for a moment, but he can very much feel Tyler's hands closing around his throat.

 

"I'll fix you," Tyler is snarling. "Oh, I'll fix you good. I'll fix you _so_ fucking good."

 

Josh, his body in full panic mode, struggles desperately against Tyler's grip. His neck aches, but it's not nearly as badly as his lungs. He strains with his whole body, hands scrabbling for purchase on Tyler's wrists, hands, fingers, but Tyler's grip remains firm. 

 

Tears spring to Josh's eyes involuntarily as he gasps uselessly for breath, and Tyler sneers. "Cry, just _cry,_ you fucking bitch. You've always been the girl. You're just a little girl, and you don't even have the tits to make it worth putting _up_ with your shit."

 

Josh's vision is starting to fade around the edges, and Tyler's knee pressing against his chest isn't helping. Josh frantically reaches for the knife, and his fingertips touch metal. Josh's fingers grab at it, and before Tyler can notice, Josh swings the knife up against Tyler's head. Tyler drops like a marionette with its strings cut. Gasping for air, Josh rolls right over and vomits onto the pretty, shiny, white marble floor. 

 

It wasn't the handle of the knife Josh grabbed, he notices as he's wiping his mouth. He'd slammed the handle against Tyler's head, knocking him out cold. The blade, however, had dug into Josh's right down to the bone, but he's too high on adrenaline to feel it.

 

Taking a deep breath, Josh tries to settle his mind well enough to properly weigh out his options. Tyler probably won't be feeling much calmer when he comes to, and Josh really doesn't want to risk another fight like that again. He looks around his setting. 

 

The pantry locks from the outside. 

 

Taking a deep breath, Josh grabs Tyler's arms and begins to drag him in the direction of the pantry. There's water and food in there, and maybe Josh can slide a magazine underneath the door later. They'll wait until help comes along. 

 

Tyler will be okay. 

 

Josh settles Tyler on the pantry floor, wishing he had a pillow or something. He'd like to go get one, but he can't risk Tyler waking up and escaping while he's gone. Sighing, Josh flicks the pantry light on before shutting the door and locking it.

 

It's not long before Tyler begins to bang on the door and scream hoarse, guttural screams. 

 

Josh throws up again.

 

 

 

Tyler sits with his back against the pantry door, eating pretzels one by one without really tasting them. He needs energy, needs his strength.

 

He's halfway through his thirty-second pretzel when his entire physical state hits him all at once. His whole body aches: every bone, every muscle. The webbing of skin between his index finger and thumb burns. His head is throbbing with one of the worst hangovers he's ever had, coupled with the ache from where Josh caught him at the side of his head with–

 

With something. 

 

Tyler eats another pretzel. 

 

All this boils down to, really, is Josh's lack of trust in Tyler. In Tyler, and Tyler's ability to judge what's best for them. Josh had tried to seize power from Tyler: first by subtle, fair(ish) means, with carefully placed comments; then by manipulation, by subterfuge, and when that didn't work, by knocking Tyler out and locking him in a pantry. 

 

Tyler checks his phone. He's been in here for three fucking hours. His own husband has kept him locked in here for three fucking hours. 

 

He's beginning to understand his father. 

 

Tyler had never had thought to wonder about what forced his father to drink. Now, however, when he thinks about Josh, when he thinks about his mother, he can understand. 

 

His mother was a craven of a woman, lacking any real skill. She'd probably nagged her husband into drinking, and mocked his drunken state.

 

And so Tyler's father fixed her. That night with the bat? He'd fixed her.

 

He'd fixed her good.

 

Pausing his thoughts, Tyler presses his ear against the door and listens. He can hear the humming of a band playing and the patter of shoes as people dance. 

 

"Let me out!" Tyler shrieks, coughing on the pretzel he had in his mouth. "Let me out, you son of a bitch! Let me–"

 

"Settle down, now, Mr. Joseph," a mild voice says very calmly. 

 

Tyler scrambles to his feet. "Weekes?"

 

"The one and only, sir." There's a pause. "You appear to be trapped."

 

"I know; Josh locked me in."

 

"I see that you haven't gotten to the business we spoke of earlier."

 

"No, I–"

 

"You let your husband lock you in a pantry?" Weekes says, an infuriatingly calm surprise in his voice. "Tsk, tsk, Mr. Joseph."

 

Tyler grits his teeth. "For god's sake, man, just let me out. I'll fix him."

 

"Will you?"

 

"Yes!"

 

"I'm afraid, sir, that myself and the others have come to wonder if your heart is not truly invested in this."

 

"It is!" Tyler insists. 

 

"You will have to fix your husband well. Very well."

 

"I'll do anything."

 

"He'll put up quite a fuss. He has turned out to be... a bit _stronger_ than we anticipated. He'll fight like hell."

 

"Not for long," Tyler promises. 

 

There's a pause. "We have your word?"

 

Tyler fidgets impatiently. "My word, my promise, my vow, my testament– whatever the fuck it takes!"

 

The door cracks open. Tyler holds his breath, unable to fight off shivers; he can feel _death_ outside that door.

 

The feeling passes, and Tyler releases his air before drawing in a lungful more. 

 

"I'll make you proud," he whispers before stepping out. The halls are silent; Weekes isn't there, but there's a baseball bat placed right outside the pantry. 

 

Tyler picks it up and weighs it in his hand. 

 

He brings it up. 

 

Swings it. 

 

It hisses through the air, and Tyler smiles.  


End file.
